


Dolente

by A_Fine_Piece



Series: White Flowers and Red Hearts [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Chronic Illness, F/M, Friendship, Guilt, Love, Marriage, Married Sex, Medication, Poisoning, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:39:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 103,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1738253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Fine_Piece/pseuds/A_Fine_Piece
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The life of a cherry blossom is ephemeral in nature. She passed before seeing them bloom for one last time... Byakuya and Hisana's final year.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to Bleach.

Rukia sat amid a circle of papers – letters, to be more precise. She still could not believe her findings in that library.

_'Who would have thought that brother would…'_  It was hard enough to believe; even harder to admit either mentally or verbally.

 _'Love letters…'_  she added in disbelief.

Glancing back at the window hanging behind her, Rukia stretched and let out a yawn. She had been reading the "contraband" since late that afternoon.

 _'Wow,'_  she mused,  _'I've been reading for that long?'_

She turned back around to her readings.  _'The last one,'_ she noted somberly, eyeing the folded sheet of paper with hesitance.

Rukia plucked the letter from its place tucked neatly between the worn pages of the old tome. With a gentle touch, her small nimble fingers unfolded the sallow-colored page.  _'What?'_  she asked herself, brows furrowed.  _'This is not brother's calligraphy.'_  Her eyes widened on inspection.

She made a cursory examination of the letter and its contents. The handwriting was quick, careless even. Some of the words and sentences had been scratched out. It was clearly a rough draft… Perhaps it contained sentiments too private that the sender had decided against sharing it with its intended audience.

"Hisana," she spoke aloud, reading the signature. She must have reread the name at least ten times before she fully comprehended it. Indeed, the letter had not been written by her beloved brother; it had been penned by his late wife.

Rukia's grip on the paper softened. Realizing the author, she now held the sheet as if it were made of gold leaf.  _'I wonder if he knows about this_ _letter?_ _'_

Part of her truly believed that little escaped his attention.  _'Brother had to have known where his wife kept his letters to her. He just had to have._ _He must have come across this book and discovered her stash if nothing else.'_

The other more cynical part of her brain was of the opposite opinion.  _'How could he know? Wouldn't he have taken them? Placed them in safety or burned them? Surely, if he had known they were here he would not have left them in this book for anyone to find in their spare time… And her letter, it looks as if she had not meant for it to be sent. Perhaps, she died before she h_ _ad the chance to give it to him?_ _'_

Rukia narrowed her eyes as she tried to focus her attention on the words written before her - words of love, death, pain, sorrow, regret… The former Lady of the house had been near death when she had written the letter – of this Rukia was positive.

Her brows knitted and her heart strummed a heavy tune inside her chest as she digested the material she had just finished. Rukia's quiet contemplation, however, was short lived. The once soulful rhythm of her heart was replaced by a frantic drumming the moment she heard Byakuya Kuchiki's voice sound from nearby.

Panic-stricken, she scrambled to gather the sheets of paper sprawled around her on the floor. Collecting the papers with as much speed as she could before he made it to the room had proven to be quite the challenge. Hardly a breath escaped her lips as she cuddled the letters against her chest and scanned the room for the nearest escape route.

 _'He's drawing closer,'_  her thoughts screamed inside her head. Seeing his inky silhouette through the shoji door, Rukia sprinted toward the room's only closet.

She was lucky that she had a diminutive frame for the closet was cramped. Hunched down with knees pressed firmly against her chest, she slid the door back, but much to her chagrin it caught. She cringed, repressing the urge to scream. Struggling, she managed to draw the door back only an inch more - just enough as not to rouse suspicion.

After her  _battle_ , she made a quick assessment of the items in her possession.  _'Letter, letter, letter, book.'_  She paused in horror.  _'Book?_ _Where's the book?'_

She leaned forward; her left eye was only a few millimeters from the crack in the door.  _'Oh, no!'_  She could have cried as she saw the book resting closed on its side  _in the middle of the room_.

 _'Even worse,'_ she observed grimly, ' _is that one of the letters is sticking out of the bottom…'_

Her eyes immediately widened upon realization that she had missed one of the letters.  _'Oh, no!'_  She tore the letters out of her kimono, and tried her best to discern which one she had missed. Using the rectangle of illumination escaping into the closet for reading, Rukia felt a chill sting up and down her spine.  _'His wife's letter!'_

She was just about to yank back the door in front of her when she was stayed by the sound of her brother entering. _'Maybe he won't notice,'_  she chanted inside her head.

Byakuya turned to spy a book lying in the middle of the floor. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the room suspiciously. The book was too far from the shelves to have  _accidently_  fallen to the floor. No, indeed, its placement appeared quite purposeful.

He wafted across the floor and bent to collect the tome.

_'It's slight – so very, very slight. There's no way he'll see it…'_

The book was heavy and unwieldy in his hand. Unable to stabilize its weight and size single-handedly, the book tipped slightly. The back and front covers separated, and, from Rukia's position in the closet, she could see the shimmer of pages as the book opened. Byakuya hastily corrected the tome's balance in his hands before it had a chance to escape him.

_'No!'_

With graceful ease, the sheet of paper fluttered unfettered to the floor.

Glimpsing the movement out of his periphery, Byakuya turned his attention to the innocuous paper resting face downward. Plucking the sheet from the floor, he quirked a brow. He was just about to stuff the letter back into the book, mistaking it for a loose page. However, a cold realization washed over him as he scanned the page before replacing it.

His whole body stiffened as his eyes probed the letter.

Rukia cringed as she watched her brother's slow but sure metamorphosis. He went from reticent to mortification in three seconds flat.

"Hisana…" he murmured softly to himself as he read the message to its completion. Once finished, his eyes disengaged from the letter. His gaze was distant as he stared absently into the bookcase in front of him. He ran a tired hand through his hair.

He looked pained as he stalked towards his desk. The book hit the desk with a heavy "thunk." He sat stiffly and reread the note once more. This time his eyes trailed the page slowly, hungrily. Every stroke, every character was thoroughly inspected to ensure that he had not been deceived.

 _'_ _I'm so sorry, Brother.'_  Her wide eyes took in every minute feature of his countenance – from the tightening of his jaws to the sloping of his mouth, she did not miss a detail.

Once he had painstakingly probed the sheet – making sure to commit every character, every phrase to memory – he opened his desk drawer. Carefully, he withdrew a stack of worn sheets of paper bound only by a single red thread. He gently tugged the pages free and added the letter to the stack. Placing the contents safely inside the desk, he bowed his head in somber meditation.

A deep, penetrating sadness washed over the room.

 _"I am so sorry,"_  Rukia whispered.


	2. Look Over Here

The winter night was a bitter mistress. The gusts stung with the force of a thousand knives. The discomfort was temporary, Hisana Kuchiki reminded herself as she surveyed the tenebrous nightscape.

Blues of varying hues swirled with the blacks of a starless night. The only source of light came from the hanging lanterns placed around the edifice's circumference. The large icicles hanging from the roof and wooden railings caught the lantern's soft warm effulgence.

The susurrus of the tree branches swaying nearby alerted her to the oncoming wind. Hisana pulled her blue haori tight across her breast as she braced herself for the evening's chill. Like icy fingers winding around her entire body, the arctic breeze felt as if it had seeped into the very marrow of her bones. She ached – her body rigid and taut as she fought back the urge to shiver.

 _'All of this just to escape a silly party?_ _'_  she mused, bitterly casting her gaze in the direction of the door to her right. The glow from the nearby windows lining the door only hinted at the warmth hidden within the establishment. Indeed, from what she could remember, the banquet room had been warm and alive with shinigami, most of who donned noble titles along with their military ranks.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath.  _'Nobility.'_  Her mind perseverating on the word a moment longer. She  _was_ nobility… now. It was the  _before_  her ascension part that bothered the aristocracy. She had since developed a sixth sense when it came to spotting the feigned pleasantries and false smiles offered to her by her contemporaries. They delivered their complements in such beautiful words, but the underlying and often thinly veiled sentiments were all the same: She didn't fit in. To them her very presence in her husband's heart revealed an irrevocable flaw in his character. She was a stain on the Kuchiki name – the flaw in the diamond.

She was a  _burden_.

Her gaze lingered on the door leading to the party. She sighed on reflection of what lay beyond it.  _'Is this how you face your problems, Hisana? By running away?_ ' her inner superego questioned.

Ordinarily, she would have gritted her teeth and tolerated the flowery insults thrown in her direction. She would smile, bow her head, and calmly thank them for their kindness, knowing all too well that the gleam radiating from their eyes only hinted at their captious nature. Their false words and feigned consideration, however, she could better digest when she was healthy. Now, in her time of illness, she had become less tolerant of the nobles' never-ending supply of hubris.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling with equal force, Hisana tried to calm her thoughts. Slowly, her body began to relax, having acclimated to the severity of the weather. She shut her eyes, slipping further into a meditative state. The sounds of falling snow and howling wind proved to be a surprising anodyne.

Then, silence filled her ears. She felt as if she had been plunged headfirst into the freezing depths of the nearby river. The wind had stopped, yet her body trembled imperceptibly underneath the fabric of her robes.

Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Hisana tiredly lifted her eyelids. Something was awry, and with devastating perspicacity she correctly ascertained the peculiarity's source.

"Vice-Captain Ichimaru." It had been so long since she had heard the intonations of her own voice; she was surprised that her vocal cords hadn't frozen over like the rest of her worn and ravished body.

"Lady Kuchiki," he greeted ever so politely.

He drew to her side and placed his hands comfortably on the icy banister. Hisana's attention, however, was not diverted by his actions. Her eyes remained steadfastly focused on the icicle hanging from the banister in front of her.

She swore if one could actually  _hear_  someone smile then she heard his grin widen as stood there innocently. "It is very cold tonight, wouldn't you agree?" he began; his tone was too conversational for her liking.

The question was rhetorical, and she chose not to burden herself with a reply. The silence that ensued, however, was nearly as unbearable as the piercing winter wind.

Clearly undeterred by her reticence, Gin continued, "You are very cold, no?"

 _'A double entendre,'_  she mused bitterly to herself.  _'Funny how he's implying that I'm the one who's heartless.'_

Silence once again blanketed the pair.

She couldn't help but take satisfaction in stonewalling the Vice-Captain. He derived far too much pleasure from the awkward exchanges he seemed to effortlessly elicit.

"Does Captain Kuchiki know of this…"

 _'Deliberate pause,'_  she mused, carefully analyzing his speech pattern.

"…  _coldness_?" he added cryptically.

Hisana raised her head. Her features remained impassive and her gaze settled stubbornly on the horizon. The tranquility that accompanied seeing the world through dying eyes never ceased to amaze her. If death required transcendence then dying was merely the preparatory stage.

A faint smile thinned her lips as she found the inner calm she had been searching for. "No," she stated softly. "I do not think Lord Kuchiki knows where I am." Another double entendre – the two were now tit-for-tat.

She wondered if he understood her meaning. Her musing, however, was quickly answered: Gin's smile, if possible, widened. "Perhaps he does but chooses to ignore it."

"He  _is_  a very busy man." Hisana didn't need to shoot Gin a sidelong glance to know that his patented Cheshire cat grin had weakened.

"Icy, wouldn't you say?" he murmured darkly.

Hisana tilted her head to the side. Her eyes apprehensively trailed to her right until her gaze was fixed his visage.

"It is very icy tonight. You'll catch a cold, and then where will you be?" The mordant tone of his remark was only tempered by the lilt in his voice.

With cat-like precision, he turned towards the building's entrance. He stopped short of the door to offer her a polite bow of the head.

Hisana swallowed her disgust at the gesture. Her muscles tightened; her posture became ramrod straight; and her jaws were locked down in a smile. "Good evening, Vice-Captain," she managed to hiss through clenched teeth.

Words better left unsaid lingered on the chilly breeze that parted the pair. He had won; it pained her to admit it. But the pain she felt was only temporary. The sorrow engulfing her heart, however, was interminable.

Turning her attention back to the wintery vista, Hisana made sure to keep Gin in her periphery. Imperceptibly, she watched as he slid back the door back far enough to allow the bright yellows of the interior to pierce the shadows hovering nearby.

Hisana's splintered thoughts slowly began to refocus after hearing the sounds of idle chatter and laughter emanating from inside. Once again, the reason she was outside readily shot to mind – she  _hated_  the female nobles she was forced to congregate with during the party. She had needed to escape for a few moments of calm meditation. She would have reached that state of tranquility if it had not been for a certain intrusion.

"Lady Kuchiki."

Hisana blinked upon hearing her title. When she turned her attention to the doorway, she had half-expected to be met by one of her attendants who had come to inform her that her absence had become notable. She stood agog when she was greeted by Byakuya.

Immediately, she felt her cold body fill with heat. Her once blanched cheeks reddened. The shadows scattered across her face, however, hid her embarrassment from his penetrating gaze. "Lord," she stammered before crossing the floor in his direction, "I'm sorry. I needed some fresh air so I stepped out here for a moment."

He looked unmoved by her response. She wondered if he suspected her of prevarication – refusing to admit to feeling overtly ill – or if he took umbrage at her negligence toward her duty as the Lady of the House of Kuchiki. She imagined her poor social etiquette had humiliated the Family on more than one occasion…

When she reached him, she bowed her head in dismay. "I'm sorry if I have caused you any discomfiture." Before she had the chance to get the words out properly, he had gently pressed a finger under her chin and nudged her head upward.

Complying, Hisana inclined her head and opened her eyes. The light flooding out from the room behind him illuminated her face, casting the shade from her countenance. His eyes softened as he looked her over.

She reflexively averted her gaze upon seeing his expression. She had tried to conceal the extent of her illness from his eyes. Her health was her own burden; one that could not be easily repaired. But, she was fighting a losing battle at keeping it hidden. Makeup could mask only so much, and her fatigue was beginning to bleed through every action, no matter the effort, she performed.

"You do not look well," his voice rang crisp and clear through her thoughts.

It was a statement, not an accusation she had to remind herself before speaking: "I feel well." She further punctuated her point with a smile.

"It is cold," he stated, letting go of the subject and taking her hand to help her into the shelter.

Hisana's weak smile strengthened in response.  _'Thank you, Byakuya, for allowing me this.'_

"Do you mind the walk home?" Byakuya asked softly, feeling her hand slip away from his once she had crossed the threshold.

"No."

The pair quietly spoke their goodbyes before departing. Byakuya had sent the servants ahead of them so the two could have their privacy. Hisana tiredly tried to match her husband's gait, but the effort she expended to keep pace had her spent within a few blocks.

Hisana's head hung low, and her shoulders sloped as she struggled to press forward. With every step she managed, she felt her body leaden. When she glanced up at her husband, she found herself at least three paces off his stride.

"Where are we going?" she asked, realizing that he was not heading in the direction of the estate.

He did not answer her question. Instead, he led her to a small bench. "Rest."

She was going to air a protest when she felt her lips smack shut the moment her body took to the bench. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured, feeling the world around her spin like a whirling dervish.

He gazed down at her in response. Much of his face was veiled by heavy shadows, and when she looked up she had a hard time focusing on his features. "I," she began, but quickly shut her mouth the moment she felt the pangs of nausea hammer her stomach. Her vertigo had finally consumed her. Times like these she would usually retreat to her quarters at the estate and asked not to be disturbed until the spell had passed. But, now, she was not afforded such a luxury.

"Hisana?"

Her name on his lips was the last thing she heard before feeling her eyes roll up into her head. Darkness fell like a curtain over her senses and her wavering body finally collapsed.

Byakuya's reflexes were sharp, and with a fluid movement he caught her. Her frail frame draped over his arm. Snaking his other arm around her, he swept her off the bench. She felt so light against him – too light.

"Hisana," he whispered in a somber tone. Sadness clouded his eyes as he glanced down at her. She looked so shrunken and breakable. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and placed a gentle kiss on her head.

She was so terribly cold – deathly cold.


	3. Haiku

The morning rays peeking through the floor-to-ceiling window proved too much for Hisana to ignore. Lifting heavy eyelids, she found herself neatly tucked into bed. Her body was buried under a mountain of covers – all of which were as white as the snow covering the ground outside her room.

Peeling back the many warm layers of fabric, Hisana pulled herself into a seated position on her futon. She glanced down to find that she had been dressed in her night robes.  _'I don't remember going to bed.'_  As she tried to recollect the night's events, she felt her head begin to throb in synchrony with her pulse.

Hisana shut her eyes and bowed her head in an attempt at relieving her symptoms. Feeling the pain subside, she turned her gaze to the window and stared out into the garden. The snow was glistening under the rays of the morning sun. In a few months, the blanket of white would melt to make way for the fecundity of spring.

Hisana smiled at the thought of the cherry and plum trees in full bloom. The Kuchiki garden looked spectacular in spring.  _'Indeed, the garden is at its most beautiful when the plum trees_ _are blossoming_ _…'_  The thought rang bittersweet in her head as she closed her eyes.  _'I wonder if I'll get to see them one last time…'_

"Lady Kuchiki," her handmaiden's youthful voice wafted over her. "Milady, you look unwell. Is there anything I can fetch for you?"

Hisana's attention did not budge from the garden. "Murasaki," she began, addressing her servant, "what happened last night?" she sounded distant – utterly unreachable.

Murasaki offered her mistress a gentle smile before overcoming her chariness. "Milady, your husband brought you home. You then went into a fit of convulsions. Lord Kuchiki summoned a physician to examine you. He then watched over you all night. Don't you remember any of this?"

Hisana bowed her head and shut her eyes. "No, Murasaki. I do not remember anything."

"I'm sorry, Milady. I came in here to give you a letter."

Hisana's head bobbed up. "From the doctor?" she asked; her eyes gazing into her servant's.

Murasaki shook her head. "No, Milady. It is from Lady Senjuro, Lord Kuchiki's aunt."

Hisana lowered her brow, perplexed. "Does the Lady not reside within the estate?"

Murasaki's eyebrows lifted in response. "Indeed!"

"Then, if she needs to speak with me why doesn't she-"

"Because, she feels this is the proper way to establish communications."

Hisana was clearly taken aback. Almost five years had passed since her marriage to Byakuya, and not once had any member of his family tried to establish a meaningful connection with her.

Hisana reluctantly took the letter and opened it in front of her handmaiden. "Thank you, Murasaki," she said, hastily unfolding the message. Carefully, her eyes scanned the sheet of paper. It only took a few moments to read the letter in its entirety. "A haiku?" she murmured softly to herself. "I don't – I don't understand."

Murasaki raised her eyebrows once more. "It is customary to reply in kind, Milady."

Hisana sighed. She figured it was to be so. "Of course. I will find some way to repay her likewise."

* * *

 

"You cannot go, Milady," Ito warned. The young servant wore a stern expression and stood with arms folded tightly against his chest. "Lord's orders."

Hisana averted her gaze in defiance. "Ito, please. I don't…" she couldn't say the words – not aloud, for fear that her greatest sorrows may come to fruition.

"You don't what, Milady?" Ito tempered his staunchness with a caring tone as he bent slightly at the hips to address Hisana.

She shook her head. "I don't think I have much longer to find her."

Ito furrowed his brow, uncomprehending of her meaning. "If your sister is out there, you can still search for her tomorrow, or when you are feeling yourself," he reasoned kindly.

"Ito," her voice sunk, "that's not what I mean."

The young servant looked as if a bucket of icy water had been dumped over his head. His eyes immediately softened, and his once defiant expression melted into a look of concern and worriment. "Lady Kuchiki, I can't," he said, shaking his head somberly. "You must stay here and rest until the doctor says otherwise."

She pressed her lips together as she looked the boy squarely in the eye. If he hadn't been so well-intentioned she would have allowed herself the right to be angry.

"Is my wife giving you trouble?"

Hisana's gaze shot down the corridor. Her eyes danced with happiness the moment she caught sight of her husband. "Lord Byakuya." She greeted him with a smile.

He stopped short of her position in the hallway. He lowered his head respectfully before addressing her: "How are you feeling?"

Ito's gaze quickly drifted from his Master to his Mistress. Once the opening presented itself, he bowed politely and left them to their privacy.

"Well," Hisana responded, watching as the servant scurried down the hall. "I am well."

Byakuya looked unconvinced. "The doctor will be by tonight to evaluate your status," he said, moving down the corridor toward his room.

Hisana stood still, watching him; his captain's haori and his shinigami robes fluttered behind him as he walked. "Last night," she began softly.

Byakuya wordlessly paused at the shoji door leading to his room.

"I'm sorry."

"You should have told me." His voice was soft but firm. She could tell that he was worried for her sake, and she lowered her gaze.

"I thought it would pass."

He bowed his head.

She wondered if he knew that she was only trying to spare him her burden for as long as she possibly could. She pursed her lips and shut her eyes in an attempt at pacifying the torrent of emotion churning within her. "Thank you, Byakuya," she murmured, bowing her head. She gave him one last parting glance before turning on her heel.

"Aren't you coming?"

She stopped mid-step the moment his voice reached her. Her head lifted and a weary smile pulled at her lips. "I received a letter today," she stated softly.

"Murasaki told me. She was afraid that it had angered you, and she wanted me to know."

Hisana smiled at the thought of her timid handmaiden confiding such information to Byakuya, the one person she feared and respected the most.

"Did it?" His voice remained calm.

Hisana turned her head to the side and shot him an over-the-shoulder gaze. "No."

He gently pulled back the sliding door and crossed into his chambers. When he turned to retract the door behind him, he reached out imploringly for her hand. His face remained as stoic as ever, but there was something about the way he looked at her – like she was some frangible piece of porcelain that needed protecting.

Hisana smiled and tilted her head. She gently placed her hand in his, feeling the heat of his skin warm her own. "I am healthy," her voice fell flat when she intended to convince.

Byakuya did not say a word in response. Instead, he just quietly led her into his room. She paused in the middle of the floor, and squeezed his hand. He turned to glance down at her; his expression somber as he stared her in the eye.

Hisana drew closer, and, stretching slightly, managed to steal a kiss from her husband. He lowered his head, taking pleasure in feeling the chaste brush of her lips against his own. He was tempted to deepen the kiss, but relented the moment he felt her warmth withdraw from him. Hisana offered him a melancholic smile and bowed her head. The two then assumed seiza on the floor.

"What did the letter say?" he finally asked, breaking the still tranquility in the room.

Hisana reached into the folds of her kimono and withdrew the scented sheet of paper. She unfolded it before handing it to Byakuya. "I didn't know what to say in response. I spent much of the day poised over a blank sheet of paper thinking of something to write. But, to no avail. My skill at composing haiku is lacking."

A slight boyish grin lengthened Byakuya's lips. "You've written haiku."

She quickly averted her eyes to the garden and grinned coyly at the thought. " _Those_  were  _different_." When she returned her gaze to him, she relished the tenderness of his stare. The softening of his eyes and face were probably imperceptible to most, but she noticed the subtle changes in his expression like most notice the changes in the seasons.

He glanced back down at the note resting in his lap. Carefully, he picked it up and tore the paper in half and then once more for good measure.

Hisana's eyes widened at his action; her hand immediately shot up to her mouth. "Byakuya," she murmured.

"Don't burden yourself with a reply."

"Lord Byakuya, it would be rude not to.

His features hardened in response. "Hardly, considering the source."

She shut her eyes and bowed her head. "Please, it is the least I could do after everything…"

His brow furrowed and his jaw tightened at the thought of her wasting her kindness on them – the very people whose malicious words and malcontent were slowly sending her to a premature grave. Of this he was quite convinced. "Do as you wish," he stated tersely.

Hisana smiled knowingly as she watched him sitting with hands resting in his lap, and with head bowed. The golden hues of a dying sun poured into the room, framing her husband handsomely. Hisana took in every detail of the moment and committed it to memory. "Thank you," she said; her voice was so soft it was almost imperceptible.

She lifted her hand from her lap and reach out for his. Her movements were slow and lethargic, but even so she maintained a certain kind of grace and poise. His hand was mere millimeters from her touch when the sound of a door being slid open broke the moment.

Both pairs of eyes shot over to the doorway to find Murasaki bowed low. Standing a few paces behind her was the doctor. "Doctor Kaito, Milord," she said, moving away to allow the physician entry into the room.

Dr. Kaito politely bowed. As he crossed into the room, he looked like a man carrying a great weight on his shoulders. His complexion was ashen and he wore a grave expression.

"I have some bad news…"


	4. Thunderstruck

Hisana remembered hearing someone, a rather insensitive someone, note once that there was no prettier sight than that of a dying woman.

She neither felt pretty inside or out. In fact, she rather felt like she had been dragged down a gravel road, shoved into a dark cell, and deprived of any food and water for weeks. She felt light and terrible – miserable – as she sat alone in that sterile hospital room.

_"It is_ _systemic_ _. Further testing is needed before I can come to any solid conclusion. But, I'm not going to lie to you. It does not look good."_

The sound of the doctor's voice echoed in her thoughts. Like mental ricochet, the chilly words bounced to and fro in her mind. She was unable to concentrate. She was unable to control the flow and fixations of her own psyche. His words had hit her like a thunderbolt; they had paralyzed her, penetrated her, shocked her, and laid her to waste.

 _'I'm so sorry, Lord. I'm so terribly sorry…'_  was the only sentiment she could summon on her own accord. Pain, like too much good wine, had warmed her, filled her, and rendered her senses worthless.

Having lived many years in the slums, she thought she had acquired quite a taste for very fine pain – and this was the most consuming she had ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Her inner voice had been stifled, and now only images flooded her mind's eye. Images that were both vivid and utterly wrenching assaulted her, and with each image came a wave of emotion – abandonment, fear, anger, sadness, pain, and suffering. But, perhaps the greatest sensation was the one of guilt. Her soul was absolutely twisted by guilt. Guilt regarding her sister, her husband, everything…

"Lady Kuchiki?" the doctor greeted as he entered the room. His voice had not reached her. She stared blankly ahead – unblinking and unmoving.

"Lady Kuchiki," he started again, and again she remained static on the bed. "Hisana!"

She blinked; her eyes immediately met his. "I'm sorry," she replied; her expression was blank, and her complexion blanched. "How were the tests?" she asked.

He looked grave. His once intelligent eyes darkened and lowered. The lines of his face tightened, giving his features a severe and "pinched" appearance. He pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply before beginning…

Byakuya sat quietly in his chambers. The golden light of a dying sun poured into his room through the large floor-to-ceiling window lining its western-most wall. But, Byakuya's attention was not held fast to the exquisite skies, which were colored the brightest oranges, reds, purples, and yellows imaginable. His gaze did not linger on the beautiful pools of melting snow that caught the sun's warm radiance. His eyes were locked on the small figure of his wife as she braced against the winter's chill to observe the garden's frozen stream.

Even despite the fact that she was tightly bundled in layers of clothing, her size remained diminutive. Her countenance, from what he could see, was ghostly pale. Her large dark eyes only appeared wider due to the grey circles lining them. Her hair no longer shined and sparkled – the sun's rays no longer danced in her tresses. She was but a mere shell of the woman who had first entered the Kuchiki estate that spring day.

But, oddly, her husband, whose power of observation was well tested, did not see  _that_  Hisana standing in his private garden. He did not see the sickly, dying woman that everyone else saw. Hisana was not some withering flower fighting against the chill of a solemn winter. She was much more than her frail outward appearance let on…

Her body moved sluggishly as she turned. The cold had numbed her. Her illness had left her exhausted. To an untrained eye, there seemed no reason for her to move. She had not stirred from her position in the garden for some time even despite the urgings of both her handmaiden and Byakuya's steward. Stubbornly, she had ignored them, choosing instead to stare absently into the frozen pool of water. Until now, she had remained unresponsive and detached.

Then, in a brief flicker of serendipity, her gaze met that of her husband's and she smiled – a soft sad smile, a smile of a dying woman. She knew he would be curious to know what her lab report revealed. She knew that she ought to come clean and tell him the truth about her very grave condition… but, there was an emptiness gnawing inside her at the thought.

She averted her gaze, staring down at the frozen ground below her as she stalked toward the door to her quarters.  _'I'll tell him,'_  she thought somberly, bitterly.  _'I'll go in there, knock on his door, and reveal every last detail,'_  she began once more, this time with a bit more resolve as she pulled the sliding door back on its track.  _'He deserves nothing less,'_ she concluded, crossing the threshold and inclining her gaze.

"Lord," her voice swelled the moment she saw the all-too-familiar visage of her husband, "Byakuya." She stifled back a sob and lowered her head respectfully as she addressed him.

His haggard, tired, and drained appearance had not gone unnoticed by his wife. Hisana had no choice but to wonder if his current state was due to his work, noble obligations, or if it was… She couldn't bear the thought that she had affected him so. She couldn't…

She threw her arms around him, drawing him tightly against her. His warmth stung against her cold, and his lips were just as searching as hers.


	5. Transcendence

Skin against skin. His warmth kissed her flesh with a feverish passion.

Hisana was somewhere between sleep and consciousness; that place where the mind migrates from the realm of the desired to the realm of the real. She was almost certain that she was still thoroughly asleep – dreaming – for she could still feel and smell her husband near her.

Lifting her heavy eyelids, Hisana's vision slowly came into focus.  _'It must be early,'_  she mused dreamily. A lazy smile thinned her lips.  _'He's usually gone when I wake up… like a dream…'_

Her eyelids felt like little weights, but she fought against the urge to drift away, and opened her eyes wider. It was still dark outside, she noted. The sun was hardly attempting to breach the tenebrous shades of nightfall.

 _'No wonder he's still asleep…'_  she thought. Absently, she compared the color of her skin to her husband's. He was darker than she. He had always been a few shades darker, but the difference had steadily grown over the years. Now, she was as pale as the clouds. Hisana smiled at the thought.

To her the sky and heavens represented the realm of whimsy and dreams. Her life followed similarly, especially at night, as it was, when she was reunited with her husband.

_'It all feels like a dream… like_ _I'm swimming in_ _sky…'_

The comparison was even more apposite when she thought of her husband. Byakuya, at least to her, seemed utterly _grounded_. He was steady, constant, and enjoyed ritual and routine. Hisana could have laughed, but repressed the tickling at the back of her throat to do for her husband's sake.

The sky and ground were as distant from one another as reality was from whimsy – yet one without the other wasn't much of anything at all. A life without dreams seemed just as impossible to Hisana as a land without a sky. At that moment, she inclined her head and gazed deeply into her husband's face. He looked stoic and aloof even in sleep, and she smiled.

 _'I wonder if I'm the dream to your reality… I wonder if I'm the floating world to your grounded_ _land_ _'_  So consumed in thought, Hisana had failed to realize that Byakuya was returning her gaze.

 _"_ _Ugh_ _"_  she whimpered reflexively. Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed with color when realization hit. She swallowed a small chuckle and diffidently shut her eyes. "I'm sorry if I woke you."

He stared at her blankly. She could tell he was still fighting to free his thoughts of their dreamy haze. "Do you wake often?" His voice was uncommonly grave as he spoke. In fact, Hisana thought her husband in a state of disarray.

"No," she answered softly. "And, you?" She already knew the answer. Byakuya was a man who carried many burdens in silence – locked deeply inside.

"No."

A grin on her part quickly revealed to him that she knew better. "Then, I must have woken you."

"You need your rest," he answered gruffly.

Her grin widened. "As do you."

That garnered a rare smile and droop of his eyelids.

* * *

 

Hisana sat patiently waiting for her prescription to be filled at the Fourth Division infirmary. There was a certain comfort in the monotony of the wait, she mused to herself. Quietly, innocuously she sat alone. Her arms were drawn up around her, and silently she observed the organized chaos surrounding her. An unfortunate student from the Spiritual Arts Academy was being tended to; he had the bad luck of being victim to one of his own kido spells from what she could gather. A few moments later, two shinigami were rushed in on gurneys – a hollow attack.

Hisana looked on rather amused and rather horrified. Fortunately, none of the injuries were fatal, and for the most part the patients were discharged with the quickness and ease with which they had entered. The hustle-and-bustle intrigued her mostly. She had come to enjoy her time away from the oppressive Kuchiki estate. Her morning constitutionals to the Fourth Division were unfettered by servants or attendants; it was one of the few luxuries she demanded rather than requested, and she much doubted her husband would have been pleased to know that she ventured so far unaccompanied in her "state".

"Kaien Shiba, I'm here to collect Captain Ukitake's medicine. Yes, of course, I've been given authorization – I'm his Vice-Captain."

Hisana's attention immediately drifted to the man standing at the counter when she heard mention of Captain Ukitake. The polite exchanges she had with the Thirteenth Division's Captain had become another part of her routine. She had been somewhat disheartened at the Captain's absence. Now, her disappointment was replaced with worriment.  _'I hope he's a_ _ll_ _right…'_

She watched the Vice-Captain argue for a time with the nurse at the counter. The banter, however, only lasted a few moments before the nurse conceded the point to the Vice-Captain. When the nurse scurried away, Hisana realized that she was alone with the strange man; she shifted her weight nervously in her seat.

Her heart rate accelerated at the thought of inquiring after Captain Ukitake. Feeling her heart drumming in her chest, Hisana began, "Excuse me for asking, but is the Captain of the Thirteenth not well?" She repressed the urge to cringe at the abrasive sound leaving her lips.

The dark haired man turned in the direction of her voice. He was young and carried himself in a manner that suggested that he was probably not from the Seireitei. He appeared somewhat annoyed by her candor. "And, good morning to you too," he chided her.

Hisana's eyes widened and she shrank back in her seat. "Forgive me for my impertinence," she apologized and bowed her head. Clearly, the man thought that she was his subordinate; this assumption was perfectly natural since most of those treated at the Fourth  _were_ shinigami, and Hisana did not dress in such a way as to betray her noble status. "I am familiar with your Captain, and I was worried for his sake," she added.

"Um," he hummed, bending slightly at the waist to inspect her like one inspects a wounded animal. "And, your name would be?"

Hisana quickly glanced up at the man. His demeanor was equal measures friendly and curt. He was as garish as he was genuine. Clearly, he was not from  _these_  parts where one's mask of civility often covered one's gaping lack of personality.

She blinked. "Hisana, sir."

His lips lengthened into a friendly grin. "That's more like it," he said, extending his hand politely. "The name's Shiba – Vice-Captain Kaien Shiba."

Hisana tentatively took his hand before offering him a smile. "It is very nice to make your acquaintance, Vice-Captain Shiba. Now, may I inquire –"

"Vice-Captain!" two chipper voices interrupted Hisana. The two shinigami, who she vaguely recognized as belonging to the Thirteenth, bounded over to her new acquaintance. The two then began competing for the Vice-Captain's attention when Hisana discreetly slipped away having heard the pharmacist call her name.

She quickly collected her bag of medicine and was nearing the infirmary's exit when she heard a loud, "Hey!" sound from behind her. Rigidly, she halted mid-step. Collecting her nerve, she looked over shoulder and gave the Vice-Captain a sympathetic glance. Lifting her paper bag of medicine and flashing a gentle smile, Hisana waved her goodbye before shoving her way out of the Division.

* * *

 

"How was your day?" Byakuya asked half-heartedly; his attention was clearly occupied by the paperwork stationed in front of him on his desk.

Hisana sat a few meters away reading a small book of haiku. She perked from her reading at the opportunity to speak with her husband when she realized the question was only a pleasantry and not a means for conversation. "I met the Vice-Captain of the Thirteenth today."

Byakuya's hand went stiff, halting any further attempt at writing.

Hisana blinked. She hadn't quite anticipated eliciting  _that_  response from her husband.

"Shiba?" He spoke the name as if it left an acidic taste in his mouth.

"Yes, I met Vice-Captain Kaien Shiba today at the Fourth Division. Is there something wrong?"

Byakuya inhaled a deep breath before carrying on with his paperwork. She could tell by the harshness of his brushstrokes that he was irritated. Hisana tilted her head to the side, and observed him with the discerning eye of a wife.

"Is there something I should know about this Shiba?"

He stopped writing once more. Hisana saw this as an opening to continue: "Is there something disagreeable with the name, Milord?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with."

Hisana's response went unseen by her husband, who kept his back to her. A sad smile lengthened her lips.

He was so close in her heart…

…yet he remained so far away…

There was only one other person in the world that stayed her heart more than he - her sister.


	6. Where Sky Meets Ground

Every month, like clockwork, Byakuya attended a meeting of the noble families. And likewise, every month many words were used to convey essentially nothing. It was a requirement, he told himself at first. Enduring the meetings was a relatively small price to pay for being born into nobility. He often repeated the aforementioned to himself when one of the clan members began waxing poetic about whatever it was that could fatigue someone with so much power and so little sense… Yes, Byakuya wasn't so drowned by dogma as not to honestly appraise his company…

"This brings us to the matters facing the Kuchiki clan…" The voice that carried his name was both listless and bored. Most nobles at these types of meetings sounded listless and bored, so without looking it was hard to decipher who had uttered the phrase. It mattered not, Byakuya thought soberly to himself as he stood to address the other noble heads.

With an equally disinterested tone, he carefully conveyed the present situation of his family. His sentences were short and clipped. The brevity with which he spoke came as no surprise to any of those in attendance. Byakuya's intense need for privacy was only eclipsed by his noble duty. It was for the sake of  _duty_  that he attended such dull meetings… or so he told himself.

He didn't attend because he was a creature of habit – no, he had dismissed  _that_  musing early on. He did not attend out of some sentimental habit, even though he had rather enjoyed accompanying his father to the meetings when he was younger. His father had been a very disciplined man of law, and between his  _duty_  as a member of the Central 46 Chambers, his  _duty_  to his clan, his  _duty_  as a father and husband, and his  _duty_  as a noble, Byakuya rarely saw much of his father. But, he had long decided that mere sentimentality was not stable enough to be useful, and thus was not a good enough reason to elicit action. Duty, however, was something sturdy – and  _law_  even more so. Both, like sentimentality, were intangible ideas, but they were ideas that provided stability.

When he had finished curtly detailing the business of his family, Byakuya stood patiently waiting for further probes. It was a routine that he found in equal measures both annoying and comforting. If everyone followed their social script, as they often did, then he would wait a few moments before taking his seat.

This time, however, there was a revision to the script that usually governed the proceedings…

"Very good, Lord Kuchiki. However, you left out one very important factor… your wife's health. How is the Lady of the House?" The voice was decidedly young… it was one of the heirs, he was sure. "It has been four years and still no heir…"

A lesser man would have blanched, or, at the very least, grimaced. Byakuya did neither. His face retained its usually dour facade. The lines of his mouth did not tighten; his jaws did not clench. The only notable change in his appearance came from his eyes. His stare blackened – a piercing gleam radiated from his dark eyes.

Defiantly, he took his seat. His expression and body language remained guarded as he thought the question over once more. This was only child's play compared to the grilling he would endure later that day during the meeting with his own clan. The question would surely be aired there as well…

He closed his eyes for a moment as he contemplated further.

Words had always confused him. They could conceal as much as they could reveal. They were as fleeting as they were fluid, and they were utterly intangible and ambiguous. Byakuya was a man who preferred his world to be painted by actions rather than prettily dressed sentiments.

"Such matters belong to the private sphere," he replied with quiet confidence. He would save the response he had weaved in his head for the clan meeting. Here, at least, the members would respect his position and cease all further inquires. His own family, however, felt they had too much to lose or gain regarding the matter.

* * *

 

Hisana smiled, feeling the warmth of the sun's rays bathe her skin in light. It was such a pretty day even despite the winter's chill. She lifted her head to the sky and inhaled a deep breath. The sky couldn't have been bluer, clearer, or brighter, she thought to herself. The colors around her, the people moving to and fro on the streets, couldn't have been more handsome if it had been springtime.

 _'Alright, maybe springtime is better, but this is still the most beautiful of days that I've seen in a long while,'_  she mused, feeling her heart swell with glee. She had been overtaken by an elation so pure and so intoxicating that she fancied herself drunk.

 _'I must be feeling better. I haven't felt this alive in weeks…'_  Quietly, she considered the possible reasons for this dramatic change in her perception.

 _'My sister…'_  The thought stayed her heart and body. This had been the first day she had gone out to actively search for her sister in a long while. She hadn't lasted long, she had to admit. But, the mere act itself had soothed part of her soul. Even if she had not made any notable progress, at least she felt like she was doing more than sitting and rotting.

"You seem to be in an unusually good mood."

She whirled around to face the voice. Her winsome demeanor proved to be infectious for she was greeted with an easy smile. "Vice-Captain Shiba," she answered, bowing ebulliently. "How are you today?"

"Well. I'd ask about you, but I don't think that's necessary," he chuckled.

"Yes, I am feeling inordinately well. I hope your Captain is feeling likewise."

Kaien, as usual, may no indication one way or the other. Hisana had long attributed the reticence on Kaien's part to not knowing her well enough. "I am going to the Fourth to pick up his meds."

"Ah," she hummed, smiling, "that is where I am going. Would you mind the company?"

Kaien returned her smile, and gave a nod of his head.

 _'He still has no idea who I am…_ ' Hisana mused wryly to herself. The two's salutations and subsequent conversations had become easier every time they met; however, Hisana knew far more about Kaien's history than he did hers. She could tell that he was trying to discern where she belonged in the scheme of things, but she doubted he had much luck…

Conversation was warm, if not still a little stilted and glib. Hisana was sure to observe the proper protocol for such exchanges, seeing as Kaien could be pedantic in his own way when it came to etiquette.

The two had been sharing a laugh when their discourse abruptly skidded to a stop. Hisana did not feel the need to look up to see who had rather politely interrupted the two. Her mood blackened the moment she felt  _his_  presence. Her skin crawled, and her breath caught in her chest. No one else but one Gin Ichimaru had such a negative effect on her.

"Vice-Captain Ichimaru," Kaien acknowledged the other man politely.

Reflexively, Hisana's eyes narrowed and her stance became very rigid. "Vice-Captain," she hissed softly.

Kaien chuckled off her response. "Aw, don't mind her. She means nothing by it."

Hisana could feel Gin's eyes on her, and she glanced up just in time to see his incessant smile widen. She responded with a glower of her own, and bowed her head. "Good day, Vice-Captain."

"Yes, yes, good day Vice-Captain Shiba," he replied, shifting his narrowed gaze to Kaien. "And, Miss Hisana," he said, patting her gently on the head like a master pets an obedient puppy, "it is so nice to see you out in the fresh air. I'm sure your  _better_  half would be happy to know of your  _strolls_. Wouldn't you say so since you're so  _healthy_  now?"

Hisana repressed the urge to shiver as he left his hand to her head. Her eyes widened from shock of the action, but now the novelty of his presence had worn on her. Keeping her head lowered, Hisana inclined her gaze. "He is aware that I am well enough."

"That is good… that you are ' _well enough.'_  I'm sure Vice-Captain Shiba will help escort you if you find yourself  _not well enough_ , eh?"

She hated him; she could almost taste her hatred in her own spit. But, she managed a kind smile as she straightened her posture. "The Vice-Captain need not worry about me," she retorted meekly before bowing her head once more and taking leave of Gin.

Her mood, now, had deflated, and was decidedly dark.

* * *

 

The room was spacious. The outer wall was lined with glass, allowing the bright golden hues of noon to flow into the room. The natural light illuminated the room to perfection so there was no need for an artificial source of lighting. A dark wooden table was stationed in the middle of the room with small square black mats lining its sides. Refreshments had been set neatly on the table in preparation for the Kuchiki family meeting. Stationed at one end of the table was Byakuya, and at the other was his Uncle.

"How is Lady Kuchiki?" it had been Lady Senjuro who had asked the question. Byakuya's aunt sat to the left of his Uncle, and their son sat at his right.

Byakuya's gaze drifted to each of the eight faces seated at the table, and he calmly sipped his tea. Unlike the meeting that morning, there was no escaping a direct response. There was no dodging the question, for the clan members had been given a full hour of his time. If he was careless or unduly evasive, he could very well wind up facing that single question the whole hour.

"My wife has taken ill," he replied evenly. An awkward silence filled the room shortly after his response. One could gather from his stern tone that he wished to speak no more on the matter. All of the members averted their collective gazes, and all assumed a grave expression.

"That is very unfortunate," his Uncle said, breaking the oppressive stillness that had blanketed the room. "I am sure you are aware of our concern, and our wishes are one in the same."

Byakuya straightened his posture, and allowed his gaze to drift to his Uncle. "And what might this collective wish be?" he asked drily. From the inflection in his voice to the narrowing of his eyes, Byakuya had made it abundantly clear that he was suspect of such sentiments. He was no fool. He was acutely aware that the common consensus in the room held an unfavorable view of Hisana. "Unfavorable" was probably an understatement, he corrected himself. Most of those present had found the idea of him marrying a commoner loathsome, detestable, and a stain on their good name. If his clan had their way about the situation, Byakuya was most certain that they would have sent Hisana far away… perhaps even to the world of the living…

His Uncle appeared taken aback by his nephew's candor. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and he drew in a breathless sigh. The elder man swallowed hard, and he set his hands in his lap. "We wish her well," he stated flatly. "But, as you know more than anyone else, Lady Kuchiki's health has been in a decline for quite some time…"

The utterance of the word " _decline_ _"_  caused Byakuya to shift his weight on his mat. It had been spoken with a hint of malcontent, he was sure - for when the older man got to the word his voice dropped half an octave.

"… we are also aware that she has been rushed to the infirmary at the Fourth on quite a number of occasions."

"Is there a point to this?" Byakuya interrupted impassively.

His Uncle blinked, dumfounded. It was rare that an elder member of the House of Kuchiki was spoken to in such a _vulgar_  manner, but considering the source, the man had no choice but to stifle his agitation. "What is Lady Kuchiki's prognosis?"

Whether they were aware of their own actions or not, all of the eight members had shifted forth on their mats to get a glimpse of Byakuya's reaction. They were disappointed, however, when their leader showed no signs of weariness, exasperation, or vexation. Instead, Byakuya's eyes went dead until they resembled something like a shark's eyes when it was on the prowl. He lowered his head slightly, tucking his chin downwards by hairsbreadth.

A few thoughts raced through Byakuya's mind upon hearing the query. He could not deny feeling that his Uncle was asking for nothing more than Hisana's expiration date. That thought alone unnerved Byakuya endlessly. Why would they even care? The question had taxed much of his mind and heart. Were they planning on attempting to pair him with a more  _suitable_  woman at the time of his wife's death? Or, did they abhor the current match so much that the mere thought of her dying before  _saddling_  the family with some abominable heir provide them some strange sort of comfort?

Byakuya briefly closed his eyes and attempted to clear his head. When he reopened his eyes he appeared more noble and regal than he had previously. It was clear to all those present that he had regained his resolve. "Such talk is inappropriate. My wife's health has nothing to do with the matters concerning our clan's business."

"Oh, but it does," his Uncle began but was just as quickly cut-off.

"She is unwell. Her recovery is imminent. That is all," Byakuya retorted, placing the rim of his cup to his lips in an act of finality. The subject had been closed, and nothing more was to come of questioning him further of it.

When Byakuya glanced up from his cup and set it carefully back on the table, he observed the dark looks painting each of the members' faces. Perhaps the thought of the Lady's recovery proved too much to bear, he mused. However, Byakuya was prevented from relishing the silence that followed for his mind was more tormented than the minds of his clan when it came to his wife's health.

He, himself, was still unsure of Hisana's prognosis….

And, it all weighed heavily on his mind.

* * *

 

Night fell over the Kuchiki estate, coloring the gardens the most wonderful shades of blue and black. The darkness from outside seeped into every corridor, sending its shadowy minions to infiltrate every nook and cranny. The artificial lighting fixtures had been staving off the advance of darkness in Byakuya's room for nearly three hours. Hisana had kept track of her husband's quiet arrival and even quieter escape to his room so he could finish his paperwork. Instead of joining him and enduring the heavy silence that filled the room while he worked, Hisana had decided to drift off to sleep. Fatigue had finally set in, and she was rendered rather dull and listless. When she awoke, she found that only three hours had passed. Surely, she had given him enough time to complete his paperwork, she thought to herself.

Her lips thinned into a lopsided grin at the thought of intruding on his "work". Carefully, she drew to her feet and silently padded her way across her chambers, down the corridor, and toward his quarters.

Byakuya, however, went about his paperwork unsuspecting of his wife's motives. Working out the division's budget for the year had proved to be a quite grueling and tedious task. He was right in the middle of recalculating the numbers posted in his ledger when he felt a dull heat caress his back, and he smelt the intoxicating fragrance of white plum.

Unspoken, he knew whose presence was at his back. A divine silence wafted over him. No words were uttered. There was no need for such vulgarities; at that moment the sounding of voices would have been too crude to bear.

Hisana's thin nimble fingers gently glided over his scalp, massaging his tired head as they trailed down his neck until they were kneading his tense shoulders. At some point along the way, unbeknownst to Byakuya, whose thoughts were sinking with every stroke of her hand, Hisana had freed him of his scarf and kenseikan. The former was folded neatly by his side while the latter had been placed on his desk.

Hisana leaned in closer against him; her legs were to his back, and she stood bent chastely at the hip. Her warm breath caressed his ears.

Yet, even despite all of the distractions, Byakuya attempted rather unsuccessfully to carry on about his work. In reality, he sat rigid with his writing hand hovering a few centimeters over the parchment. He struggled to break from the spell that he found himself under, but to no avail. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that Hisana was employing kido with every touch – her hands were pure magic.

Realizing that resistance was futile, he calmly placed his pen down and sank into the experience. His heart and breathing slowed, and his whole body slowly began to slacken and relax.

"You look tired," she whispered in his ear.

He was slow to process her words, and even slower to respond. "Oh."

Hisana smiled weakly. "I asked for the servants to bring dinner to us. I made sure you'd have enough time to bathe before it is served."

He inhaled deeply, and gave an imperceptive bow of his head. "Oh."

"I'll set the meal for you. It should be ready afterwards."

He turned his head slightly to the right so he could glimpse her out of his peripheral vision. Reading her face and movements, he slowly drew to his feet the moment she withdrew. When he turned to face her, their eyes met.

Hisana tilted her head to the right and offered him a meek smile; her hands drew together in front of her, and her fingers laced. Byakuya watched the subtle movements, but before her hands had become firmly interlocked, he placed his hand against hers. Carefully, as if she was made from thin fine glass, he brought her cool hand to his lips.

"Come," he said, still keeping her hand in his as he led her to the bath.


	7. Dream Snare

The weather was slowly warming. The snow had melted and the ground had finally thawed. Spring was around the corner, Hisana mused happily to herself as she took a stroll about the Seireitei. There was a bounce in her step as she wound her way through the shopping district. The shiny gewgaws, fine silks, beautiful scrolls, and lacquered combs never ceased to intrigue her. She could spend hours hungrily examining the items. Sure, some of the trinkets were better crafted than others of their kinds, and the prices often reflected the skill required to make such products.

Hisana never bought any of the ornaments she fancied. Perhaps years of self-denial prompted by poverty had taught her not to need or want for much. She was a minimalist by trade and perhaps by nature. She had come to believe that her husband, too, was more ascetic than frivolous in demeanor.

Carefully, she weaved her way past the buskers, various kiosks, and merchants. Her eyes were greedily taking in the merchandise as she listened to the badinage occurring between the ware-sellers and their customers. Over-eager merchants would throw out casual tarradiddles in order to draw attention to their goods. The market was extraordinary lively, Hisana thought to herself as she sifted through a pile of the most expensive "half-priced" items she had ever seen in her life.

 _'There must be a festival or something on the way…'_  she mused to herself as she passed a few stands.  _'Wonder what it could be?'_  Escaping into herself as she thought the question over, Hisana paused instinctively. She glanced over to her right to examine what had seemingly caught her attention. Hanging from the door of one of the shops were three unusual metallic trinkets. Each of the ornaments was fashioned into a large circular spiderweb from silver. Dangling from the largest spiderweb were smaller silver spiderwebs. They made a lovely chiming sound when the wind disturbed them.

"See something you like, milady?" It took Hisana a moment to comprehend that the question was directed at her. When realization struck, however, she turned to address the female vendor.

"Oh, yes, those hanging in your doorway are very curious-looking. May I ask: What are they?" Trying to hide the fact that she was taken off-guard, Hisana quickly lowered her head and nervously flattened any wrinkles in her kimono as she asked the question.

"You must have very recherché taste," the woman began in a canorous voice.

Hisana lifted a brow at the observation. She knew she looked more like a mendicant than a noble, and was quick to discern the mendaciousness in the woman's statement.

Either oblivious to or ignoring Hisana's discriminating state, the woman continued. "It is a dream catcher. Come," she said, pleasantly gesturing for Hisana to come closer to inspect the dream catcher. She nimbly plucked down the smaller and more delicate of the three, and motioned for Hisana to take it.

"It is very lovely," Hisana responded. She had to admit that the dream catcher was appealing. With gentle hands, she held the ornament warily. "Why such a name?" she asked, turning her attention back to the female vendor.

"It is believed that if one places it above where they sleep it will catch any bad dreams."

Hisana smiled at the thought. "That is a very pretty notion," she replied, handing the ornament back.

"Oh, it is more than that, milady. It is true! Buy one and see."

Not even allowing herself to entertain such an absurd and superstitious idea, Hisana bowed politely. "Thank you for your time."

As she walked away from the merchant, she pulled her haori tightly around her chest. For some strange reason the woman's words nagged at her thoughts. It was silly, she had to admit. Nothing sold at such an ordinary store could possess such extraordinary powers. But…

She shook her head at the mere suggestion. It was true that Byakuya had been rather restless as of late. She knew he would, at times, awaken sweaty and alarmed in the middle of the night. She was usually still awake due to the pain caused by her illness, but she would never let on that she knew of his troubles. Instead, she would feign slumber and wait for him to settle down next to her. Then, she would wonder what the cause was behind his nightmares. In her mind's eye she would go over what was murmured when he woke and what he did. While she could never comprehend what he said at those times, she was certain that his gaze would trail over to his sword, Senbonzakura, which lay resting in its scabbard. She wondered if his nightmares had anything to do with his zanpakutō…

 _'He'd think it silly,'_  she mused, casting her former thoughts aside. But before she could resist, Hisana had turned to glimpse the merchant and her wares once more. "But maybe…" she whispered under her breath.

* * *

 

"Lady Kuchiki!" Shirogane Ginjirou, the Vice-Captain of the Six Division, greeted. The man appeared a little taken aback by her sudden appearance. "What can I do for you?" he asked, trying to hide his alarm.

Hisana smiled warmly. "Vice-Captain, if it wouldn't be too inconvenient – "

"Oh, it wouldn't! Please, tell me what I can do?" he interrupted.

Hisana lowered her gaze shyly. "Could you give this package to Lord Byakuya?" she asked, diffidently handing him a small wrapped parcel.

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I'll see to it Captain Kuchiki receives it," he said, examining the package.

Hisana bowed politely and was just about to turn around when she was stopped by the sound of the Vice-Captain's voice.

"Lady Kuchiki," he began, "The Captain is not in right now. He is currently attending a meeting."

Hisana turned to face Shirogane, and lifted her gaze to meet his. "Yes," she said, wishing for him to elaborate more on the perceived problem.

"Oh, it's just that I doubt he will be in his office to receive it today—is all."

She smiled and nodded her head. "That is alright." Once more she bowed before excusing herself.

"Lord Kuchiki you look ill. Is everything alright, Milord?" Kishu, Byakuya's trusted steward, asked upon receiving his master late that night.

Byakuya trudged past his faithful servant without as much as a passing glance. Either he was offended by the question and its implications (that he looked to be in poor condition) or he was too exhausted to give a reply. Kishu was banking on the latter…

"How is Lady Hisana?" Byakuya asked, trying to speak without betraying the tiredness he was feeling.

"She is inordinately well, I would say. She went to Rukongai in search of her sister as usual." Kishu waited for his lord's posture to straighten before continuing. "Then, she dismissed Ito and carried on about the shopping district of the Seireitei for quite some time. She returned only moments before you, sir, and she appears to be the one in better humor."

Byakuya remained silent – deathly silent – as he listened to his steward's account. When he thought the man's spiel had reached its conclusion, Byakuya turned his head only slightly to shoot him a sidelong glare. "That is all," he said dismissively before making way towards his quarters.

Once he had reached his chambers, he settled into his nightly routine. He first shed his captain's robe, then his scarf, then his kenseikan, and finally… He had just withdrawn Senbonzakura, sheath and all, from its place at his obi when he felt the need to pause and examine his zanpakutō.

Gently, he pulled back the sheath, revealing the sword's glistening metallic edge. "Senbonzakura," he whispered softly to himself. "Why do you…?" He grimaced slightly before finishing his thought, and placed the zanpakutō down.

"How are you feeling?" he asked knowingly.

Hisana smiled at her husband's perceptiveness, and slid the door back further. "Kishu sent me."

Byakuya's brows lowered in response for he had not requested Kishu to send his wife. "How was your search?"

Hisana sat in seiza just behind the threshold to his room. Judging by the tone in his voice, she could tell her husband was in low spirits. "It was…" she trailed off in thought; her heart ached for her sister. "How was your day, if I may inquire?" she digressed in a meek voice.

Byakuya remained with his back toward her, and took a few steps forward toward his desk. "It was…" he responded tiredly.

She smiled. "Busy?" she added.

He turned his head slightly to glimpse her. She was sitting so chastely just outside his room as if they were but mere strangers. Her hands were tucked neatly in her lap, and her head was bowed subserviently. Perhaps, his dark mood was frightfully obvious? Perhaps, Kishu had warned Hisana of his state before sending her to him?

"Yes," he responded.

An oppressive silence shortly blanketed the room, but was quickly broken by Hisana. "Dinner will be ready shortly," she said politely, before fingering the door to slide it shut. "You seem preoccupied; I will leave you to your privacy."

"Stay," he said softly before she had the chance to leave.

* * *

 

Hisana struggled to get to sleep. For some reason, the pain seemed to intensify at night. She had long concluded that this increase in pain was due to the fact that at night she was not nearly as distracted from it. At night, she had to come face to face with the illness she had been trying to smother out of existence.

Adjusting her weight carefully so that it would not trouble her throbbing head, Hisana finally found a position that eased her pain. She was just about to drift off to sleep when she found herself on the receiving end of a limb to her face.

She aired a frustrated, "Umpf," from her side of the futon. Groggy and bleary-eyed, she rolled over on her other side.

 _'Music?'_  Hisana furrowed her brow and tried to focus her vision. It sounded like a low soft lament.

 _'It sounds like it's crying…'_  She reflexively shot up to a sitting position, and tried to locate from where the sound was coming.  _'I must be losing it…'_  she thought to herself,  _'because it can't be… Can it?'_

Hisana narrowed her gaze, having perceived a faint glow.  _'Senbonzakura?'_

The lament grew louder when she focused her attention on the sword. Gently bending at the hip, she leaned forward on the futon and cocked her head to the side.  _'Like a thousand sorrowful voices…'_

Propping herself on her hands and knees, Hisana crawled forward on her mission to discern what was being said. Her efforts, however, came to an abrupt halt when she felt a warm pressure grip her right ankle. "Ugh?" she murmured aloud, glancing behind her.

"Lay," Byakuya's hoarse voice ordered.

Hisana positioned herself into seiza and turned her attention to her tired husband. "Don't you hear it?" she asked, hoping against hope that she hadn't lost complete control of her mental faculties.

"What do you mean?" he asked; his voice was at once faint and gravelly.

Hisana knitted her brows together before glancing back at Senbonzakura.

The singing had ceased and the sword no longer radiated a pale sheen.

Unsure of what had happened, Hisana hesitantly laid back down on the futon. She did not return to sleep that night for her pain had only amplified. At the first sign of daybreak, she slid out of bed, and dressed. Making sure not to wake her husband, she neared him and gently placed a kiss on his head before leaving.

It was a rarity indeed for Byakuya to be the one who woke up alone… After apprehending that his wife had left for Rukongai with Ito, Byakuya went about his morning ritual albeit rather sourly.

When he arrived at his division he was greeted by a cheerful Vice-Captain. "Captain Kuchiki, you received a package!"

Byakuya went into his office to find a rather innocuous brown parcel situated on his desk. It did not don any "official" insignias or symbols. He examined the package with a cynical gleam in his eye. He had become wary of such "unauthorized" packages since they were mostly sent from sycophants.

Grimacing, he went against his better judgment and opened the parcel to find a strange wind-chime in the shape of a circular spider web. "What is this?" he murmured to himself, unfolding the small card resting on top of the "gift".

It read:

"This is a dream catcher. It is supposed to filter out any bad dreams. Hey, you know I hope the superstition is right! – Hisana"

Byakuya gently replaced the card and glanced down at his sword, which was now pulsating ever-so-lightly at his side. The lines of his mouth sloped into a frown as he examined his zanpakutō.

"I wish it were that simple, Hisana…"


	8. Fragility

The blanched surroundings and the pungent odor of disinfectant resonated deep within Hisana. She had traveled those slick floors and navigated those sterile halls many times before, but never under such conditions…Her breath caught in her lungs, and her stomach flipped at the sight of the room number: 303.

_'Lord Byakuya…'_

She wasn't sure if she muttered his name aloud or if she had merely thought it as she shoved the door open. Confusion had set in, her body went numb, and she could feel her blood pounding in her ears.

She had thought him invincible.  _She_  was the frail, weak one.

"Lord Byakuya…"

This time she heard her own voice rise above the rattling of passing gurneys and staff moving around her.

Coldness overcame her - a coldness that had begun in her fingers and toes and had slowly sunk into every vein and muscle. Time felt as if it had stopped the moment the door swung back in front of her. She could not detect the bevy of movement swirling around her. The organized chaos that always seemed to consume the Fourth Division Infirmary went undetected by Hisana, who stood suspended in time.

And then she blinked…

Her husband lay resting peacefully in a sea of white blankets, and chained to various monitoring devices.  _'How did this happen?'_

The question written so plainly on her face was read and quickly answered. "He was protecting his squad," came a mournful voice.

Hisana, who hadn't detected the presence of another, looked across the room to find the Sixth's Vice-Captain standing braced against the windowsill. His right arm was heavily bandaged as was his forehead, and his mien was decidedly downcast and weary. He did not make direct eye-contact with her. Instead, his gaze trailed from his captain to the white floor.

"How? He never…" she couldn't bear the thought. Feeling a sob swelling in her chest, she placed the back of her hand against her mouth to prevent its escape. "I don't understand."

Shirogane corrected his posture, shifting his weight evenly to both feet. He then crossed his arms protectively in front of chest. His head was lowered, and his face was veiled by shadow. "I'm sorry Lady Kuchiki. It was my fault, I'm afraid."

Hisana lowered her brow and shot him a disbelieving look. "No, don't say that," she murmured, knowing in her heart of hearts that he spoke falsely. She knew of men and their fragile pride – strong they may be in physicality, but they lacked the sort of toughness that was all too apparent in the members of her gender.

"It is true. If only I had-"

"Enough," she interrupted politely.

He looked up at her clearly alarmed. He had never heard the Lady speak so forcefully. "I – I -" he began, but was interrupted yet again.

"Lady Kuchiki is right, Vice-Captain." This time it was Captain Unohana's soft voice that cut into his words. "Your arm is badly injured and you are in need of rest."

Hisana's gaze shifted between Captain Unohana and her husband's Vice-Captain, who immediately bowed and complied with Captain Unohana's recommendation. Alone with the Captain of the Fourth, Hisana lowered her head subserviently. She had acquired a great deal of respect for Captain Unohana. Unohana was unfailingly polite and serene, but Hisana could also detect a great power radiating from within the woman…

Hisana was about to turn and exit the room so Unohana could work in peace, but was instantly stopped by the sound of Unohana's voice. "Lady Kuchiki, you may stay if you wish," the Captain addressed her from across the room. She was in the process of taking Byakuya's vitals.

"Will he be alright, Captain Unohana?" Hisana asked hesitantly. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the answer.

"Captain Kuchiki is a strong man. His recovery is sure to be a swift one."

Dragging a spare chair toward his bedside, Hisana cringed the moment she heard the skittering of the chair's metallic legs against the floor. Captain Unohana, however, paid no heed to the shrill soundings nearby as she finished her routine examination. Hisana breathed a sigh of relief as she took her seat. "What happened?" she whispered almost imperceptibly.

"Exhaustion and fatigue," Unohana answered.

Hisana's head popped up upon hearing the Captain's response. She had not thought her question loud enough to be heard... "Hugh?" she hummed much to her chagrin.

Unohana glanced up at Hisana and smiled sweetly. "You look surprised," she answered kindly.

"I just… I didn't think…"

"You didn't think he too became weary?"

"Oh, no. I mean,  _yes_. I knew he wasn't sleeping well," Hisana fumbled to find her words.

Unohana offered her a comforting smile and nodded her head. "His squad was cornered and he must have made an error due to exhaustion. His wounds are healing nicely and should not cause him any trouble in a week's time." She then withdrew from his bedside and with a slight bow of her head she crossed the floor to the door.

"Lady Kuchiki?" she started before departing.

Hisana turned her attention to the Captain and gave her an obliging look in response.

"How are you feeling as of late?"

Hisana was struck mute. She quickly averted her gaze to the floor as she tried to find the appropriate words to respond. "Well, thank you for your concern, Captain Unohana."

Unohana lifted her head nobly and gave Hisana a knowing look. "That is good." She managed a small smile before parting company.

Hisana returned her attention to her husband.  _'He looks so pale,'_  she couldn't help but think. Absently, she brushed a few errant strands of hair off his brow. His head was warm and slick to the touch, which worried her greatly. _'Captain Unohana said he would recover,'_  she kept repeating to herself as she caressed his cheek. Occasionally, she would press her lips to his forehead to monitor his temperature. He was hot, but his temperature seemed to be dropping little by little - she had convinced herself of this.

Her eyes never left his countenance. The deeper her gaze became the more his illness became apparent to her.  _'The circles around his eyes are so dark. His breathing is so heavy and labored. I didn't notice that cut there…'_  She was sure she was driving herself mad as she sat and fixed all of her attention on him.

 _'I wonder if this is how he feels when I'm here in a room and bed similar to this_ _one._ _I wonder if his heart aches like mine when he is sitting here like I am_ _now._ _'_  She took his hand and squeezed it as the latter thought raced through her head.

Gently, she reached over him and readjusted the opening of his white kimono over the white bandage that stretched across his chest. As she did so, a bright glint caught her eye. "Senbonzakura?" she murmured, spying the zanpakutō resting innocuously on a nearby nightstand. With a quiet resignation, Hisana shut her eyes and took to her seat.

_'Please, make sure he is alright...'_


	9. Inner World

All shinigami have an inner world. It had been a long time since Byakuya Kuchiki had seen his. It had been a long time since he had spoken to his zanpakutō or since it had deemed to speak with him.

_The_ _whisper_ _of a thousand_ _voices_. "Byakuya…" His name sounded airy – as if it had been carried away on some stray wind. It sounded like each syllable of his name had scattered into the darkness of his world the moment it was uttered. He knew the voice that called him well, and if there had been any doubts in his mind they were quickly dispelled the moment he felt the cool chill of petals caress his skin.

_'Senbonzakura.'_

He felt a sinking sensation in his chest when he examined the area. The scenery was decidedly dark and tenebrous. Too dark, he mused to himself. His inner world had changed dramatically. The sky above had never been black; it had always been a bright cloudless blue. Utterly perplexed, Byakuya lifted his gaze upward. The stars and moon above him were silvery, yet they did not emit any radiance nor afford him any light. Instead, the moon and stars appeared to have painted on that dark firmament.

"Byakuya," sang the legion of soft airy voices. Then came the scent of blossoms, engulfing his senses until he could almost taste the sweet fragrance. Becoming increasingly annoyed by this "game," Byakuya narrowed his eyes as he tried to locate his zanpakutō. But, his attempt was in vain. He could not tell from where his name had sounded. The endeavor, he realized, was nigh impossible considering the capricious nature of Senbonzakura.

"Senbonzakura," he muttered in the strictest tone he could manage. His attempt, he was sure, failed. The darkness swirling around him was oppressive. Even if his zanpakutō hadn't been as obstinate as himself, he was sure that his command had been thwarted by the intense shade.

"Why so dark?" it called out.

Now, he could feel Senbonzakura swirling about him. Its words felt palpable on his skin, in his ears, and against his robes. But, it took him a moment to process what the zanpakutō had said. There was a certain discord in its voices for they did not all sound in unison. To his ears, Senbonzakura rather sounded like a harmony of cacophony.

" _Why so dark_?" he echoed the words pensively to himself. His brow fell as did his gaze and he thought the meaning over.

_'Is it implying that I am the one who…'_

Byakuya turned to glance behind him. Slowly but surely his eyes were beginning to adapt to the darkness of his surroundings. Now, he could make out the rows of sakura that occupied his inner world.

"You look surprised!" Senbonzakura's many voices gradually began to synchronize, but its words still overlapped.

Byakuya spun around just in time to catch the capricious petals. The moment his eyes glimpsed the cluster of swirling blossoms, Senbonzakura amalgamated and took on a human form. Senbonzakura stood a few inches shorter than Byakuya, and was composed of a thousand softly glowing petals.

"Why am I here?" Byakuya muttered impassively.

Senbonzakura released a breezy chuckle and a few petals which swirled around his head. "How am I to know if you don't?" it replied irreverently. "I  _am_  only a piece of you – not your entirety." As it finished, Senbonzakura poignantly freed several more of its petals.

Byakuya was not particularly fond of what Senbonzakura was alluding to…

"See how grim my world has become?" Senbonzakura began rather unceremoniously. "It has been darkening, darkening. Dark, dark, dark. An eternal springtime is rather useless at night."

Byakuya arched a brow and gave Senbonzakura an unsympathetic look.

"So apathetic," it observed aloud. "And, look where that has gotten us! Have you  _any_  pleasures left?" Once more, Senbonzakura released more blossoms as it spoke. The velvety petals circled its wielder – gently brushing his ears and catching in his hair.

Byakuya, however, remained reticent on the matter; although, if truth be told hehonestly did not know how to respond.

"Look at yourself – so rigid, so stoic. What could you possibly be hiding? Hiding? Hiding from yourself for if you remember I am a piece - a mere petal, if you will - of your soul." The voices were beginning to sound discordant once more – their words slurred together until they were bleeding into one another.

There, Senbonzakura had finally said it. It had finally completed its allusion to petals. Byakuya clenched his jaws as he watched Senbonzakura's human form slowly begin to disintegrate. Like petals dropped from a basket to be dispersed on the wind, Senbonzakura took the form of a flowery blob and engulfed him. It should have been a pleasant feeling. The velvety flower blossoms against his skin should have felt welcoming. This, however, was not so. Byakuya's skin chilled and grew irritated by the constant fluttering sensation.

"You never answered my question." Its disembodied voices hissed sensuously into his ears.

"Which question?" he murmured indifferently.

"Pleasure," it purred in a collective whisper.

"What does that matter to you?" he spat, flinging an arm into the wall of petals. His efforts, however, were futile. As soon as he swatted a clearing to walk through, the ever moving whorl of petals mended the hole before he could escape.

"It matters because you seem to be losing your  _resolve_ ," Senbonzakura's voices became sharp and clear at the end of the statement.

Byakuya froze. A chilly flood of sensation ran down his spine, and his heart skipped a beat. Senbonzakura had finally called him out, and he was struck dumbfounded. Had he been losing it? Inch by inch, yard by yard, until what happened today? Ah, yes, now he remembered the day's events. Too clearly did his mind draw up a mental picture of the past. His squad had been down to the World of the Living to perform a menial task, but something unexpected had happened. They had fallen prey to a trap – a very clever trap – one that was far too sophisticated for any ordinary hollow. He had moved to the front to defend his subordinates when he had ascertained that things had gotten out of hand. The attack really was nothing, he remembered. The hollows hadn't been particularly troublesome for a shinigami of his rank, but…

"Your resolve faltered." Senbonzakura's words brought him crashing back to "reality".

Byakuya scanned his surroundings. There was no sign of Senbonzakura or its soft effulgence. No, now his vision was blinded by darkness. No susurrus could be detected. In fact, his inner would became deathly silent. Dead – everything felt dead and drowned – like he had plunged into the depths of an inky ocean.

 _'This must be what it feels like to be in oblivion,'_  he thought wearily to himself.  _'This must be what it feels likewhen one first dies…'_  He blinked and fixated on the latter thought. He, of course, had no memory of being plunged into the transitional world of the dead after departing the World of the Living. He had been too young to recall those events. To him, he had always been "dead" and residing in Soul Society. At the thought of death, he felt his heart pang a cold pang in his chest. No, he did not fear his own death for he knew what was to come. However, he did fear another's departure… On some level, he supposed, we all fear an aspect of death. For him, although he would be loath to admit it even to himself, he did despise being left behind. He had been left behind while others whom he knew and respected had  _died_  before, and he supposed he would endure yet another loss…

Byakuya glanced down at his hand, which he could just barely make out only a few inches in front of him. He repressed the urge to smile grimly at the observation that his zanpakutō took the form of cherry blossoms. Cherry blossoms were known and perhaps even cherished because of their short lives. They were never around long enough for one to truly tire of them, and yet when they left there was a sense of mourning. Everyone, even children, understood this cycle of the life and death of the cherry blossom. And in a small part, the transitory and ephemeral nature of the cherry blossom paralleled the cycle of life and death of all souls.

Stepping forward a few paces, Byakuya glanced up to find that if possible his world had darkened. "What?" he wondered aloud, turning his head to find that he could no longer make out the dim shapes of the sakura nearby.

"Your resolve is weakening," Senbonzakura noted, swirling up towards him. "Have you found any pleasure in all of this?"

Byakuya eyed Senbonzakura with an unrelenting gaze. "I do not understand your meaning," he responded in a listless monotone.

"Come now, I cannot be the only color in your in life," it chimed in an airy whine. Senbonzakura's glittering petals illuminated the area around him in a pale pink sheen.

He remained rigidly stoic. "I have pleasure." At this he felt the air chill and the wind pick up, almost as if Senbonzakura was mocking him.

"Really? What pleasure do you take for yourself?"

He furrowed his brow. "I fail to comprehend the signif-"

"Answer." Senbonzakura retaliated by turning one of its deadly petals on Byakuya, gently nicking his cheek.

Byakuya's eyes widened the moment he felt the metal skid across his face. Immediately, his left hand shot up to feel the damage while his right hand gripped for the hilt of his zanpakutō. The hilt of his sword, however, crumbled on receiving his touch.

"No," Senbonzakura hissed playfully. "This isn't about that.  _That_ is nearing mastery;  _this_  is far from it."

He blinked at the insinuation. "I enjoy my nightly walks," he snorted indignantly. On hearing his response, Senbonzakura's petals swooshed together, mimicking laughter.

"Walking? Is that all you come up with? You call a nightly stroll a pleasure? Are you sure it's not just  _your_  own _compulsion_  to not stay idle after your evening meal. Or worse, it is an activity in which you engage to clear your mind while you are contemplating a problem. You call that a pleasure?"

Byakuya cocked his head to the side to shoot Senbonzakura a scathing stare. It, however, did not seem in the least deterred from its line of questioning. "Go on," it urged.

He folded his arms defiantly across his chest. "I take pleasure in spicy foods."

Again, his response garnered the same "whooshing" mimicry of laughter as the last answer had.

"What's wrong with that?"

"You call eating in moderation a pleasure?"

"No," he stated.

"Oh, yes, you enjoy  _spicy_  food when you do eat. I don't think that's much of a pleasure as it is a preference. You abhor sweets, so you eat hot foods. This sounds more like a wise nutritional choice than anything else. Especially, when one considers the advantages of spices when it comes to metabolism, alertness, brain functioning, and overall health."

Byakuya sharpened his gaze in response.

"Try again," Senbonzakura implored, ignoring its wielder's dark look.

"I take pleasure in calligraphy and reading," he replied threateningly.

Once more Senbonzakura laughed. This time, however, Byakuya wasn't sure if his spirit guide was laughing at his reply or if it was laughing at the menacing manner in which he delivered the response.

"You only took up calligraphy because your father told you it would help you improve your swordplay. As for reading, when you're not reading material relating to your many obligations, you're reading books on strategy."

"Perhaps I enjoy reading books on strategy."

"And, perhaps you read those types of books because you think those are the types of books you  _should_ read as a captain…"

"Is there a …" Byakuya began but was quickly interrupted.

"Try once more," Senbonzakura commanded, knowing full and well that its wielder hated being commanded to do anything.

Almost against his will, Byakuya's lips parted and he uttered a soft, "Hisana." His breath sharply caught in his chest, and his lips quickly smacked shut before he could get out all of the syllables. It was too late. His answer had been detected by Senbonzakura. He prepared for the inevitable laughter that was to follow, but stiffened the moment he realized his expectation was unwarranted.

Senbonzakura stopped its intense fluttering and reverted to its humanoid form. " _Pleasure…_ " the voices uttered in a low susurrus. The moment the word sounded, Senbonzakura burst into a thousand blossoms and dispelled on an invisible wind.

Byakuya, still on guard, glanced over the area. The sky was brightening, at least. Now, it looked like a sky at the very early strokes of dawn. Streaks of red, sienna, and purple colored the horizon. But, Byakuya could not deny the uneasiness hefelt in his stomach. Senbonzakura's lesson had yet to be learned.

Byakuya's eyes lifted to view the now clearly visible rows of sakura to the right and left of him. The trees were in full bloom. He fixed his gaze on the trees while waiting for the inevitable. The air had become sharp and chilly, and the trees swayed and shook. They truly were remarkable, he noted to himself. There were sakura of every kind – but it was the weeping cherry tree that shook the most violently the moment the wind picked up. Byakuya could feel the air pressure begin to rise. Building his resolve, he shut his eyes and inhaled a deep breath before being assaulted by the swarm of petals that were quick to engulf him.

He had been completely swallowed whole by not only petals but voices. Hateful, angry voices, which spoke words, phrases, and sentiments that he had heard far too often.

_'She is not good enough.'_

_'She will ruin us.'_

The words, the thoughts, and the paralyzing realization that they existed in his heart stayed him and weighed him down. It was all absurd – those accusations, he told himself. Yet, he could not deny the fact that he had given them all consideration at one time or another. He had done all he could to convince his family and their affiliates that she was "good enough" and that she wouldn't "ruin them"… or had he been the one he was really trying to convince? Byakuya shook his head and the thought away. It no longer mattered, for now he was very much of the opposite opinion.

_'She is weak.'_

_'She is a burden.'_

He stiffened at these allegations. Had he considered her weak? Wasn't she, though? Part of understanding another was also assessing their flaws. And, yes, while she was weak in physicality, he did not think her weak in spirit nor mien. As for burdensome, that had been her own worry bleeding now into his. He had always reassured her that she was never a burden, hadn't he? Had he believed it?

_'She cannot possibly give us an heir.'_

_'She only married you for your money... she does not love you.'_

He stood transfixed the moment he heard these sentiments being chanted around him in harsh dissonant voices. An heir would be preferable, but that was never one of the reasons he married her. No, that concern had always spewed from the mouths ofhis family. It was the latter accusation that stayed both his heart and mind.

"S _he only married you for your money. She does not love you."_  He had heard those phrases countless times from countless family members and social relations (mostly of the female variety). He had to admit that he had given considerable consideration to this. He had wondered if she had only married him for his wealth and power. He, however, was convinced otherwise…. But yet…

_'She's near death… and then she'll leave you forever…'_

His body froze cold. Of all the ugly words assaulting him with the sharpness of steel, this was by far the sharpest… He had already lost so many…

Finding his resolve in the torment, he opened his eyes. The whorl of petals immediately fell to the ground – limp and defeated. They remained static on the ground for a few moments before fluttering upwards to reform the humanoid Senbonzakura.

"Very good," its voices rang as it lightly drew forward.

Byakuya watched quietly. He did not appear entirely triumphant in the matter. In fact, if truth be told he rather looked like he had been run over by a buggy and dragged a few furlongs.

"It seems you have regained your resolution."

_Whiteness._

Tired, heavy eyelids fluttered open. A blinding whiteness came flooding into his mind, then came the all too familiar smell of disinfectant and chemicals. Blinking through the groggy cloud that had settled over his thoughts, Byakuya glanced up to confirm his surroundings.

 _'Infirmary,'_  he sighed.

Then, a soft lilting hum washed over him. He reopened his tired eyes and followed the trail of sound. "Hisana," he murmured.

She was seated at his bedside. One of her hands was resting on his, while the other was holding a few sheets of paper. She stirred upon hearing her name. "You're awake," she said, smiling. She instantly perked up in her chair and squeezed his hand. "How are you feeling?"

He managed a small smile as he blinked back his tiredness.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, drawing nearer. She gently brushed back a few strands of hair from his face, and felt for his temperature. "Your color is returning," she observed soothingly. She had just parted her lips to speak once more, but was quickly silenced by a feverish kiss.


	10. Poetry in Motion

" _Keep him still and well rested for at least a few days if you can."_

A faint smile lengthened Hisana's lips as she thought over Unohana's words. They had left the infirmary only two days ago, and, indeed, Hisana had her hands full with keeping the Lord of the House quiet. The Captain of the Fourth Division had a canny understanding of her patients.

_'If only she knew… But, then again she probably did…'_

Keeping Byakuya still and rested was nigh impossible. He was restless, restive, and completely insufferable when restrained.

' _It's like trying to keep a butterfly's wings from fluttering – like tethering a hummingbird,'_ Hisana mused, staring through a window looking out onto the garden. It was raining, and she was oddly enraptured by the event.

"Perhaps, the rain will keep him quiet," she muttered softly under her breath. The moment her lips closed, however, she regretted having uttered the latter.

"Oh, and you think you are any better at being a patient?" Byakuya scoffed as he noiselessly entered the room.

Hisana's eyes widened instinctively the moment she heard the deep and familiar intonations. Fighting back her shock and embarrassment, she turned and offered him a polite smile. "I suppose you have a point," she replied in a breezily voice.

He tried hard not return her airy sentiments. Instead, his look hardened, and he turned to slide open the door to the garden.

' _He likes watching the rain too, huh?'_  Hisana tilted her head to the side as she watched him. His coloring still was a shade or so too pale, and even though he tried to hide it, she could detect a slight limp when he walked.

She giggled involuntarily the moment her gaze lowered. She squeezed her eyelids shut as her fit of giggling turned into one of blatant laughter.

Her chuckling elicited a sidelong glance from Byakuya. "What?" he asked; his voice was uncharacteristically gruff.

She opened her eyes and fixed her gaze on the bokutō he was attempting to use as a cane. Perhaps, over the last four years of marriage she had come to know him too well. Or maybe, given the circumstances, she was particularly sensitive to his actions. Either way, she liked to think she was not so easily fooled.

"Where are you going?" she asked coyly, ignoring his question.

Byakuya's gaze tellingly fell to the wooden sword gripped in his hand. Catching himself, he immediately averted his attention to his wife. "I was going -"

Hisana gracefully took to her feet, quickly silencing her husband. She crossed the room, and with a cool yet firm touch, she placed her hand over his. Gently, she slid her hand down to the bokutō, and wrapped her fingers around the slick wood. "You were going to train," she observed slyly as she parted him from his bokutō.

His expression blackened in response. She had found him out. Although, he had to admit that his plan was rather obvious.

Hisana combated his dark glare with a cheerful look of her own. "Captain Unohana would be very displeased if I did not follow her orders."

He glowered at her for a moment before speaking. "And, torturing me was part of the instructions?"

Thinking better of laughing, Hisana pressed her lips firmly together.  _'He really is not use to being told "no,"'_ she noted – far too amused for her own good.

Realizing that he probably would not respond well to prodding, Hisana took his hand in her own hand and laced her fingers through his. "Come," she suggested in a low breathy voice, sliding the outside door shut.

Byakuya was feeling rather foul and bilious, yet her longing tug proved too much to ignore. He gave a snort of dissatisfaction, but he followed nonetheless. "Where are we going?" his question came off sounding discordant, yet his firm grip on her hand betrayed his true emotions.

Hisana smiled to herself as she led him through the winding corridors of the vast Kuchiki estate. Arriving at the library, she paused in front of the shoji doors. She turned her head slightly so she could glimpse his mien. He looked like an explanation was in order before he would take another step forward.

Hisana lowered her head as she summoned a look of repose. She turned on her heels, and gave a faint but noticeable bow before beginning: "I was informed by a very reliable source about one of your hobbies."

Byakuya appeared unmoved when she looked up to evaluate his countenance.

"… and since you are  _supposed_  to be resting, I thought, if it wouldn't be too much trouble, that you would perhaps instruct me in the art of calligraphy," she added, lowering her gaze to the well polished floorboards under her. She inhaled a deep breath the moment she felt him readjust his grip on her hand. She was hesitantly waiting for him to release her – to express his dissatisfaction with her suggestion. In that moment, as his grasp loosened, Hisana braced herself against the prospect of abandonment. When she felt his grip tighten against her hand once more, her gaze shot up to him imploringly. Their eyes met, and she felt assured that he was not angry or discontented with her.

Wordlessly, he led her down another corridor – one that she was quite unfamiliar with. ' _Where are we going?'_  the question lingered heavy on her tongue, burning to be asked. She, however, swallowed any temptation to make a sound. Instead, she obediently followed in her husband's wake.

Their journey came to an end once they had reached a rather innocuous shoji door – one Hisana was sure she had never opened, or even noticed before. In fact, as she gave the area a cursory scan, she was not sure she had ever traveled down that particular hallway.

Byakuya quietly slid back the door to reveal a capacious room empty of all luxuries and adornments.  _'I wonder how long it has been since someone has been in here?'_  Hisana mused the moment she crossed over the room's threshold. The floors were perfectly polished, and the room was spotless, but there was a sterility about the room that did not sit well with her. If a room could feel sad and abandoned, then this room was crying.

At some point during Hisana's initial observation of the area, Byakuya had released her hand, and had wandered over to a closet stationed in the right-hand corner of the room. Hisana's head bobbed up once she realized he was no longer by her side. Instinctively, she panned the room to find him fetching two strange instruments out of the closet. They were long, thin, wooden tools; at the end of each looked to be horse hair.

Examining the strange objects, Hisana furrowed her brow. She took a few steps forward toward the middle of the room. Again, she had to suppress the urge to ask him what was happening. She felt that such a question would hang too abrasively in the tranquil air of the room. And, Byakuya looked pensive as he adjusted his grip on the strange instruments.

' _I wonder what he is thinking,'_  she mused absently to herself. His brows were lowered, and his eyes remained on the objects he was handling. Lost in her thoughts, Hisana watched as he neared a door leading to the outside. She probably would have continued mindlessly observing him if he had not turned to summon her with a single look.

Hisana shuffled across the floor and followed him outside. It was still raining, she noted after she had closed the door behind her. Both, however, were sheltered from the wetness by a covering that hung over the walkway.

Byakuya paused for a moment to watch the rain fall in glistening streams. Hisana quietly neared him on the walkway.

"Here," he stated deadpan, and then handed her one of the strange objects.

Hisana blinked, confused. She tilted her head to the side, pondering what in the world he was getting at. She had wanted him to teach her calligraphy.  _'I suppose if you look at this thing just right, it sort of resembles a brush,'_  she thought to herself, half-amused by her own observation. She then turned her attention back to her husband, who was using the rain water to soak the tip of his "brush".

Hisana watched him as he penned out a verse on the sidewalk:

" _Swifter than hail_

_Lighter than a feather_

_A vague sorrow_

_Crossed my mind"_

She had just finished reading the poem he had written in water on the cement when she felt the burn of his gaze heat her skin. Somehow, she had the vague feeling that it was her "turn".

She offered him a nervous smile before drawing to his side. "I'm unsure," she began, all of sudden feeling very self-conscious. She attempted a stroke, but she could not easily hide her trembling hands. She immediately made a face at her blunder.

"It matters not." Byakuya leaned his brush against a thin post, and gently molded her into position. His touch was surprisingly tender and light, which only made her feel more lacking and clumsy holding the life-sized brush. "Calligraphy is the art of perfect accidents."

She grinned inwardly at his comment.  _'Accidents I think I can handle…'_

Trying to calm her nerves, she chuckled breezily. "You know, when I conceptualized a calligraphy lesson I wasn't expecting  _this._  I was -"

Byakuya, however, cut her off the moment he began guiding her movements. His body was warm pressed against her – like a blanket. His touch and prompts were featherlike and malleable. Against her, he almost felt like another skin. She had to admit the experience was rather sensual. From the sound of the rain pounding in her ears, to the warmth of his breath in her hair. Hisana had no choice but to feel absorbed in the process.

' _I wonder if this is similar to what it feels like to swordfight?'_ she mused as she took a small step backwards.  _'If it is, then it makes sense why he would want to teach me in this way… No wonder he misses it so much…'_

Caught in her thoughts, Hisana fumbled a little. She let out a light gasp only to be quieted by Byakuya.

"It's alright," he stated firmly before guiding her next movement.

A smile lengthened her lips and she took in a deep breath. When she was finished with the poem, she took a few steps backward to evaluate her work.

"It is good," he commented softly.

She blushed in response, and shook her head. "Any goodness in that can only be attributed to the quality of the teacher," she said turning to view him more fully. Byakuya looked down at her; his expression was soft, and he seemed to be in good spirits – a dramatic change from the black mood he had been in earlier that day.

"Your division is very lucky to have such a patient Captain," she said, inclining her head so her eyes could meet his gaze.

Wordlessly, Byakuya lowered his head in response. "Some would disagree with that -" he began in earnest but was quickly cut off. Hisana had stopped his lips with her own. Feeling her withdraw, Byakuya stayed her, deepening the kiss.

Warm and contented, Hisana ignored the loud "thunk" her brush made when it fell to the ground.

' _A very good teacher, indeed_ …  _I just hope he doesn't have many other female students…'_  Hisana mused, feeling a pang of jealousy pelt her heart as she pondered the exact number of female adjutants he had under him…


	11. Somnambulated

"A House divided against itself cannot stand."

No truer words had been spoken – at least if you were a member of the Kuchiki clan. This was  _especially_  so if you were not the head of said family. It was needless to say, but Byakuya Kuchiki had stepped on a great many toes, and, in the process, had decimated a few very bloated egos – not the least of which belonged to quite a number of court ladies. For a group of people who held themselves in such high esteem, they were utterly baffled, vexed, and totally confused by Byakuya's selection for marriage. Of course (they thought) he could not have rejected  _them_  for they were _beautiful_ ,  _lovely_ , and their dispositions were not in the least bit  _annoying_ or  _cloying_. Obviously, this strange  _common_ woman had bewitched him – or worse yet, she had conned him into marriage!

By very virtue of being the wife of Byakuya, Hisana was thought loathsome, detestable in nature. Because she was a common woman from the outskirts of Rukongai, she was a social anathema. The noble women and a good number of their hopeful fathers felt a blow to their collective pride… and that was unacceptable.

However, the outrage among the nobility paled in comparison to the rage experienced by members of the Kuchiki family themselves. Not only did they have to watch their family name be blackened, they also had to  _pretend_  to approve of their lord's choice. Some of the Kuchikis managed this feat with more or less success than others. Some of the Kuchikis flat out fumed and railed in private and public sphere alike.

No one liked the idea of a Kuchiki lowering himself so far for  _love_  of all things, and the four years of marriage that ensued afterward had not soothed any wounds.

Their hatred towards his selection was only eclipsed by their hatred toward the prospect that their next heir would delivered by a  _commoner_. With every passing year the two remained married, the more inevitable an heir would be born, and the more the family worried. The more the family worried, the more their captious nature flared.

' _A House divided against itself cannot stand…'_

The words rang in the heads and hearts of the clan members with the resounding boom of a death knell. The room was decidedly dark in both appearance and in mood. Dark black shadows were staved off by the flicker of a few dancing flames. The large, thick candles lighting the room gave the good fight, but the inky shade of nightfall was encroaching moment by moment.

The long, grave features of each Kuchiki were only more exaggerated under the veil of darkness. Seated in seiza around a small lacquered table, everyone of the Kuchiki family was in attendance... Everyone, that is, save for one very notable absence – Byakuya Kuchiki himself. It wasn't that the head of the Kuchiki family had decided against attending; he hadn't even been invited…

"What should we do?" one low voice rumbled from the end of the table.

A few heads bobbed up, attempting to locate the origin of the voice. It was no use; the shadows hung lowly over the coterie, concealing the faces of those in attendance.

"Wait." Another voice answered darkly.

The sound of members shifting on their mats filled the stale air of the room.

"It will only be a matter of time before the  _woman_  dies." The voice now took on a decidedly ominous tone.

This response elicited a collective gasp, and a quiet murmur of voices broke out.

"How can you be sure of this?" another member questioned incredulously over the muffled susurruses.

"The good doctor never  _lies_ …"

For a brief moment one could actually feel the air being sucked from the room to fuel the collective gasps.

Then, a deathly silence blanketed the chamber.

* * *

 

Perhaps Hisana had no idea what she was marrying into when she had made the decision to take on the Kuchiki surname. Sure, she realized that there would be problems regarding the nobles and his family. She wasn't so naïve as to think that she could waltz into the Seireitei from Rukongai without making at least a few enemies.

But,  _this_  was not her problem. She came from the ghetto – she was  _used_  to being treated like dirt. Charming ideals such as honor, social protocol, and saving face simply did not exist at the bottom rungs of Soul Society. Survival was the order of the day. Everything was just a consequence of making it through another day in various states of living.

What disturbed her, however, was the military aspect of her husband's life. Where she came from, all the men (and a great number of the women) romanticized the Gotei 13. Those with enough strength and spiritual power tried to get into the Spiritual Arts Academy with hopes of becoming an officer of one of the squads. Those who had no hopes of attaining membership into the Academy did the next best thing – bitterly waxed poetic about such institutions. Love it or hate it – just the idea that some opportunity for greatness existed fostered a false sense of hope among those who were desperately in need of  _something_  in which to believe.

Hisana wasn't particularly sold on the idea of a Guardian Force, having seen no real benefit of having such an organization. Just  _what_  were they guarding anyway? It definitely wasn't the souls in Rukongai from what she could tell.

Now, that she was married to someone who was heavily involved in the military, she felt her initial indifference slowly fade to horror. The fact that the Gotei 13 had such a high turnover rate of which even the Captains were not immune did not help mollify her worries. The fervent loyalty and dedication induced by simply holding a position within one of the esteemed military institutions also irked her endlessly. From her standpoint, the Academy preyed on hopeful youths, turning them into mindless drones that obeyed orders no matter how extreme. And, no one  _ever_  questioned the authority of his or her superior or the mysterious legislative body of Soul Society – the Central 46 Chambers. Nonconformists were severely punished or put to death. The old axiom was true:

' _The nail that sticks up gets pounded down,'_  Hisana thought silently to herself.

Unbeknownst to Hisana, her head had tilted to her right, and she was gazing directly at Byakuya who sat positioned at his desk. She had been trying to occupy her time with a book while he finished his work.

' _He's been so taciturn lately,'_  she mused, still unaware of the fact that her gaze was lingering on the back of his head. _'I wonder if something has been bothering him at work.'_

He had returned to the Sixth Division only two weeks ago. At first, he seemed to be in good spirits when he returned home. But something had happened within the last few days... He was inordinately quiet. His disposition was overly lugubrious, and his entire mood seemed blackened.

She blinked as she thought the latter over. She had tried he level best to find ways to cheer him up – all to no avail. _'Perhaps he returned to work too soon?'_ She considered the possibility, but given the fact that he seemed  _happy_  at the beginning, she doubted that was the case.

' _He never talks about his work… I wonder why?'_

' _For the same reason you never mention to him what your day brings you…'_ the more logical part of her mind retorted. _'He doesn't want to trouble you with his problems.'_

' _Well, him being so closed about it is troubling in its own right!'_

' _Great, now I'm fighting with myself…'_  She shook her head at this observation.

Apparently having grown tired of feeling her gaze boring into the back of his head, Byakuya started. "Is there something bothering you?"

Hisana's cheeks heated and her gaze fell to the tatami mat. Every fiber in her body tensed and knotted as she thought over her response. She decided to answer his inquiry with a meek, "No, milord." The response came out with little thought.

Byakuya shifted in his seat when he heard the word, "milord," sound from his wife. With the utterance of that single formality, he could almost feel the psychological distance between the two of them grow.

"Is there anything troubling you?" she asked, lowering her head and fixing her eyes to the pages of the book in her lap.

He did not respond… Although, he really didn't need to air his concerns. His silence spoke volumes enough…

Hisana shut the book, making only a soft "thump" as she clasped it closed. Quietly, she took to her feet. "I am very tired, milord…"

Again she used that cognomen, and again Byakuya bristled at is usage. Somewhere inside his head the more rational part of him realized that it was ridiculous to take umbrage at the innocuous title; however, said rational part of him was cleverly being distracted by the heap of work currently sitting in front of him.

Hisana continued, "If you do not mind -" she had barely gotten the words out of her mouth when she was interrupted.

"No, you are excused."

Hisana straightened the moment his words hit her from across the room. She felt as if someone had dumped a bucket of icy water over her head. Transfixed by the door, she felt her chest tighten and her stomach drop. All she could do was blink back her confusion and vexation at his choice of words.

Swallowing her pride like it was bitter medicine, she managed to sound cheeeful in spite of herself. "Goodnight, milord." She bowed lowly before sliding back the shoji door and stepping into the hall.

* * *

 

Many wives do not realize the toll combat has on their husbands. Many subscribe to the notion that men (and women) can compartmentalize their life on the battle field from that of their life at home. Neither the two lives should meet – instead it was assumed that they could be stored in watertight bunk-heads.

Hisana would have liked to have thought that she knew better. But, there are reasons hindsight  _is_  20/20.

Sometimes, after particularly brutal missions, a warrior's two lives bleed together. The two worlds collide, and then separate. Like when oil meets water.

How each shinigami reacts to this compartmentalization depends on a host of factors, not in the least have to do with the situational pressures bearing donwn on them. Some of the shinigami sublimate their impulses, others displace their aggression, and then there are the ones who made an active decision never to separate their public life from their private one.

Byakuya, however, remained perfectly unaffected by the polar forces driving him. However, there are times when even the strongest bulwark falters. When this happens the results are often devastating because they are usually so unexpected…

Hisana had been peacefully sleeping when she was awoken by a strong sense of dread. Little did she realize that the gut-wrenching sensation clawing its way up from her stomach was merely her survival instincts kicking into gear.

A deep cold breath slid down her throat the moment she opened her eyes. The dark blues and blacks of nightfall fell like a veil over the room, but even through the haze of her barely-there consciousness and the thick curtain of shade, she could make out the piercing glint of a sword bearing down on her. In wide-eyed panic, Hisana inhaled a deep breath, and repressed the urge to bolt. It took every bit of Hisana's will to ignore her instincts to struggle against the blade. For, while it was forcefully positioned against the flesh of her throat, it did not feel particularly sharp or biting. Hisana, however, was not totally benighted when it came to swords. Even though it did not  _feel_  sharp  _yet_ , did not mean that it was any less deadly. Should she make the mistake of moving counter to the blade, she would wind up being ripped to ribbons.

And, she really did not want to be ripped to ribbons that night…

Calmly, she tried her best to relax and refrain from moving. She certainly did not want to do herself in by struggling against the sword, and she did not want to provoke whoever it was that held her firmly pinned against the futon.

Blinded by the glimmer of moonbeams reflecting off polished steel, Hisana stared into the burning sheen of the blade. Admittedly, however, Hisana's attention would have first gone to the sword even if it had not been catching the moonlight by virtue of it threatening to slit her throat open. Her gaze trailed down the blade of the sword until she reached the blade's tsuba and hilt. Recognition struck her like a lightning bolt.  _'Senbonzakura?'_

Immediately, her eyes shot up to find her assumptions proven correct. "Lord?" she managed in a hoarse cry.

As her eyes adapted to the darkness, she could see her husband's face ever clearer. He did not appear to be himself as he leaned over her. His eyes were open, yet instead of  _seeing_  her he saw  _through_  her like she was as clear as water.

Her brows lowered over narrowed eyes. She was confused, and he appeared to be somnambulating. She wanted to wake him, yet any movement was risky under the force of Senbonzakura.

"Lord!" she cried out again, feeling the sword beginning to sink deeper into her flesh. Even though the blade was slowly pressing down on her, she could not help but observe the sheer self-restraint Byakuya demonstrated.

' _He's shaking,_ ' she noted to herself upon closer inspection.

' _He's holding himself back… part of him is aware of what is happening, no doubt.'_  Hisana pressed her lips together at this thought.  _'But what can I do?'_

"Senbonzakura," she whispered softly, "please..."

What Hisana did next could only be construed as reckless, but it was the only mode of action that made any sense to her. She hesitantly reached her hand to the sword, wrapped her fingers around the bitter steel, and exerted force against the blade. She bit down hard against her bottom lip and winced. She could feel pain shoot in waves up and down her arm until it had pierced and permeated every fiber of her body.

"Byakuya!" she whimpered, feeling the warmth and stickiness of her own blood slicken the sword's edge.

With the sounding of his name, Byakuya instantly let the arm holding the sword fall to his side. Relieved, Hisana immediately shot up into a sitting position. Cupping both sides of his face with her hands, she gazed deeply into his eyes. His expression was one of utter remoteness.

Hisana leaned in and kissed him – solemnly, in her own way, urging him back to consciousness.

Her ploy had worked for when she withdrew he appeared to be himself. Confused, Byakuya glanced down at her; his brows were knit, and his eyes were searching. Inhaling a deep breath perfumed by the metallic odor of blood, Byakuya reached up and withdrew her right hand from against his cheek. Her hand so small and cool against his own; unexpectedly, her skin was wet and sticky. Glancing down, he found that she was bleeding profusely. The palm of her hand had been slit open and was in desperate need of bandaging.

"What?" he asked incredulously. His gaze immediately trailed to his side where he found Senbonzakura laying naked by his knee. His expression transformed into a look of pure mortification the moment realization hit.

"Hisana -"

Soberly, she shook her head. "There is no need. You were having a nightmare."


	12. Trifle

Once the excitement of the day had worn thin, Hisana once again found herself in the doldrums. She heaved a small sigh, and bent at the hip to readjust her footwear.

"Is there something wrong, milady?" It was Ito's tentative intonations that sounded in her ears.

His elongated shadow drifted over her, blocking the sun's mid-afternoon rays from her eyes as she glanced up. "No," she sighed softly to herself.

Unsure of himself, Ito watched his mistress remove her sandal with her bandaged hand. Either out of frustration or anger, Hisana began pounding the footwear against the large rock she was now resting against. "Is something wrong with your geta, Lady Kuchiki?" he asked, perplexed by her odd behavior.

She shook her head before discontinuing the ruckus she was making. She then brought the sandal close to her face to inspect the sole. Obviously dissatisfied with what she saw, she exhaled a deep breath before gracelessly dropping the geta to the sandy ground. To Ito's own astonishment and pleasure, the sandal landed right-side-up.

Anxiously, Hisana shifted her weight against the large stone she was using for balance. Her features were deadpan – save for her blue eyes. Her eyes were distant and remote in appearance; she looked as if she was entertaining a great number of worrisome thoughts.

Ito lowered his head and kept his gaze locked on his mistress. Before he realized what he was doing, Ito had taken to the stone Hisana was leaning against, and he watched her. At first, she did not seem to mind his intrusion; in fact, she hardly seemed to acknowledge him at all. Instead, she kept her gaze focused on the horizon.

It was another day. Searching. That's all she ever seemed to do when she was not being occupied by the many trifling affairs that seemed to plague the Kuchiki household.

Now, she was staring into the distance with those soft doleful eyes. She stood perfectly still – just staring – for what felt like an eternity to Ito. That is, until she shifted her weight between her sandaled foot and her bare one.

The burn of her attendant's stare was becoming increasingly noticeable - seeping into her own consciousness. Hisana lowered her gaze, and uncrossed her arms from in front of her. She gently brushed an errant hair from her brow before her hand absently strayed to the bandage wrapped neatly around her neck…

' _It has been two weeks and still…'_

She shook the thought away – willed it out of her head and heart.

"How is the Lord?" she asked. Hisana quickly repressed the urge to grimace at the sound of her own voice; it had come out unusually hoarse and low.

"Milord has kept to himself mostly."

Hisana immediately turned her head to face Ito. Her eyes conveyed both pain and hope. Ito was not sure what to make of her expression. Was she pleased? Displeased? Forlorn? He could not tell. What was he to say to that pitiful expression?

"He keeps himself occupied - mostly at the Sixth Division barracks," he added, unsure of why he had chosen those words with which to answer her look.

Her expression became demure, and her gaze slowly fell to the yellow sand beneath her. "Of course," she replied meekly in between nods of her head.

"But, don't worry, milady. Today is a day of great love!" Ito began, a broad smile inching across his face in a vain attempt to allay her sorrow.

Hisana cocked a brow, and begrudgingly eyed Ito through her bangs. "Surely," she began quietly, "you don't mean that just because today is..."

"Indeed!" Ito exclaimed, overly joyous given the circumstances. "It is Valentine's Day, milady!"

Tempted to play along, Hisana furrowed her brows. A small contrite smile drew a line across her stoic face. "I hardly think a holiday brought here from the World of the Living can…"

"Of course it can, milady!"

Hisana's smile lengthened in response to Ito's ebullience.

"That is why you bought Milord a box full of truffles, is it not?"

Blushing, she quickly averted her gaze to the ground. "However did you…?" She did not even want to finish that question let alone think it. How terribly embarrassing. Although, as of late, her whole life felt rather nightmarish. First there was her husband's somnambulism shortly followed by his absence at the estate. Much explaining had been done. Explaining the bandages around her throat and hand had taken some doing, she had to admit. And, she was not so naïve to believe that the assortment of Kuchiki attendants and clan members had actually believed her chicanery.

_I fell… It's just whiplash... I got tangled in the garden's thorny vines… I cut myself while arranging flowers…_

She was not sure which of the excuses she had actually used and on whom she had used them. All she could remember was feeling the warm wave of horror wash over her the moment she tried to explain away her injuries and her husband's absence.

A long grin lengthened her lips as she reflected on the well feigned looks of concern she had to endure. However, at least one of the clan members had astutely put it together.

' _He finally tried to kill her. It was only a matter of time…'_

The thought was wonderfully morbid, and she could not deny that it appealed to some masochistic sensibility she held locked deep inside her. Too amused for her own good, Hisana tried to muffle the chuckle tickling at the back of her throat to be released.

"What is it, milady?" Ito asked. His eyes were wide and conveyed a look of concern. All he had seen was his Mistress's hand shoot up to her mouth, and then she had bowed her head. He thought she had fallen prey to a fit of coughing… he was rather relieved to find that she was merely laughing back her feelings of sorrow.

She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. "It is nothing," she managed in gasps between chuckles. "It's nothing at all. It's just…"

"Just what, milady?" Ito encouraged.

"…all so ridiculous. I mean – aspects of it is."

"I don't comprehend, Lady Kuchiki." To be honest with himself, Ito wasn't so sure that he even wanted to comprehend what his mistress was saying.

Hisana shook her head. "Don't worry yourself, Ito. It is probably just my mood. Come, we must be going. It really is getting late, and you know how Rukongai is after dark." Hisana carefully slipped the geta on her bare foot and readjusted her weight away from the rock.

"I have yet to send Lord Kuchiki his gift…"

* * *

 

It had been a long day for the Sixth Division. There had been adjustments made to the training schedule. These adjustments had been made in preparation for the new recruits. With the new additions came an "updated" patrol schedule. This updated patrol schedule, in turn, meant that for Byakuya the long day had bled into an even longer night.

And, Byakuya Kuchiki was tired.

He was rarely tired and even rarer still did he  _look_  tired. But that night not even  _he_  could hide the lines of weariness that creased his face. As he crossed through the dark and desolate halls of the division, Byakuya was pleased to note that he was alone since most of his men had retired to bed.

 _Bed_ … Yes, the thought alone brought him a sensation of peace and relief. "Bed" was a place he had not seen for nearly three days…

Nudging open the door to his office, Byakuya's mood blackened the moment light flooded the room. His eyes narrowed and his brows fell in unison as he surveyed the space.

Going to bed was a long time coming judging by the look of his desk. His desk was buried. Not one inch of wood could be seen. What was worse, however, was the fact that his desk was not covered by stacks of papers, files, ink, or dossiers. No, his desk had been consumed by boxes – very ornate looking boxes that ranged the entire spectrum of color.

For a moment he stood perplexed until it dawned on him…

 _Valentine's Day_.

The more he looked at his desk, the more "gifts" he saw. The boxes appeared to be breeding right in front of him.

Did he even  _know_  that many women? Byakuya could not remember. It was late, and he was tired. Yet, as he tried to avert his attention from the colorful mess he could not. It was like looking at a wreck – one couldn't merely turn away.

Surely, he did not supervise so many forgettable females?

In fact, he was rather sure that his division only housed a handful of female shinigami.

He stood puzzled a moment longer before indifference or fatigue overcame him, and he realized that he no longer cared. It was late. He was tired. And, this was clear a sign as any for him to abandon all hope of completing any more paperwork, and go to bed. He would have one of his adjutants dispose of the gifts in the morning. It would be too laborious to locate all the senders to ship the gifts back to their respective places. Even if Byakuya was of a mind to overlook the laborious nature such a task would demand, he was sure that at least a few of the presents were given out of some vague sense of obligation; to send those gifts back would be in bad taste.

Eyeing his desk one last time, Byakuya indulged in a slight head shake before exiting the room. Perhaps if he had actually  _liked_  chocolates he would not have found the whole holiday so utterly unrewarding. He, however, was diametrically opposed to sweets. And, the fact that the holiday was an import from the World of the Living only made him think the custom that much more onerous.

Absently, he wound his way through the division's halls until he stepped outside and into the division's courtyard. The bitter chill of winter stung his cheeks and hands, unsettling him for a moment – successfully yanking him from his complacency.

Byakuya paused and looked up into the cloudy firmament. The clouds hung heavily over him, threatening to burst at any moment. He drew in a deep breath and shut his eyes in an attempt at clearing his thoughts… He would lodge at the division for the night. It was going to rain – staying where he was would be more prudent… Or, so he managed to convince himself.

Hesitantly, he began toward the captain's quarters. It was only a short distance away and he was fumbling with the lock within a matter of minutes. Tiredly, he drew back the door and entered.

The area was desolate. A small desk containing two neatly stacked piles of paper was the only indication that someone occasionally occupied the space.

Byakuya's gaze drifted between the closet, which housed the futon, and the small black lacquer desk.

_Duty?_

_Pleasure?_

He shrugged off his captain's haori, and removed his scarf. Absently, he draped the garments over his arm as he crossed the floor toward the closet. Unceremoniously, he put out the futon before duty beckoned to him from across the room.

He stopped short of the desk. His eyes immediately focused on a small unassuming parcel resting on the desktop; the package was wrapped in white paper with a red ribbon wound around it. Examining the box with a discriminating stare, he stood unsure of what to make of it. Had he been the one to place the box on the desk? He certainly did not remember doing so. But, it did not make any sense otherwise. Surely, one of his subordinates would not have encroached on his privacy…

Byakuya picked up the box, and made quick use of the bow and its wrapping. Coarse hands parted the container's top from its base revealing six chocolate truffles and a small white envelope. Fighting back feelings of derision, Byakuya removed the envelope to examine its contents. His feelings of discontentment, however, melted the moment he was met with the familiar fragrance of white plum.

With quiet hands, he unsealed the packet and unfolded the small card contained inside. It read:

" _Spicy truffles because you don't like sweets…"_

' _Hisana…'_  he thought to himself, replacing the card. Unthinkingly, he had brought the perfumed envelope to his lips and inhaled a deep breath. His eyelids grew heavy and his breathing slowed. The tensions of days and battles past quickly dissipated until only a warm calming sensation washed over him.

Byakuya placed the card back into the box before setting the chocolates back down on the desk. Any former illusions he had regarding paperwork vanished, and he mindlessly began to disrobe. He was just a hairsbreadth from taking to his bed when he was stopped by a sudden knock on the door.

He was half-tempted to ignore the disruption. It was late, and if the pitter-pattering outside was any indication of the weather, it was raining. Who still in the possession of his wits would be wandering about at such an ungodly hour?

With a staccato gesture, he slid back the door.

He opened his mouth ready to launch a biting inquiry. "Wh-" he began but instantly went dumb the moment he saw who stood outside his door.

All words and thoughts escaped him. No longer did he feel burdened by weariness or exhaustion.

No words were exchanged between the two. There was simply no need. The time for talking had passed, and both were quite aware of the deleterious effects of over analyzing the moment. In lieu of a customary greeting a kiss was shared.

Byakuya slid the shoji door closed behind his wife as he pulled her further into his quarters…


	13. Halcyon Days

A cold draft raked across her bare shoulder. Hisana shuttered in response, and searchingly felt for the covers. She was still very drowsy, and her head was resting on something that was neither very soft nor fluffy. But, it was warm and smelled very good, and it seemed to have a pulse…

Her eyelids immediately fluttered open upon making the latter observation.

' _Good gods,'_  she moaned inwardly the moment she felt the sting of the early morning light reflect into her eyes. It took her only a moment to realize that she was  _not_ in her quarters at the Estate. No, she was somewhere else entirely. She blinked back her confusion the moment the veil of grogginess lifted and realization hit.

' _Oh, yes. I remember now…'_  She could have laughed at her own forgetfulness.  _'Valentine's day…I'm at the Sixth Division barracks.'_  She smiled at the thought.

She was half-tempted to settle back into place, but rationality eventually vanquished whimsy.

' _It must be getting late… You probably need to leave him to his duties…'_

She was just about to sit up when she felt a warm pressure sink into her back. Instinctively, she lifted her head to see her husband's serene face. If she had not known better she would have thought him still asleep. But, she wasn't so naïve… He was merely meditating.

She sank back into place with her head resting on his chest and her arm tucked against his side. Her eyelids felt like little weights and became heavier with every breath she inhaled. A warm sensation of bliss washed over her and down came the eyelids. Hisana was truly at peace. If she was still enough she could feel the rising and falling movement his chest made. And, if she was absolutely quiet she could hear the drum of his heart beating; she found the sound oddly soothing.

She wished it would last forever…

Her efforts at being soothed, however, were interrupted the moment she felt his fingers graze the back of her shoulder. The sensation of his coarse fingertips against her soft skin drew out a small gasp on her part. Her cheeks flushed a pale shade of pink and her toes curled in reaction. Reflexively, she lifted her head – searching for an untraceable expression on that stoic visage of his.

"Calm. You are so restless." It was an observation on his part, and one that she could easily get behind. Hisana had been unusually unnerved and on edge lately. She hadn't always been, but something in her had changed. She wasn't sure if it was the illness, the contrite feelings she harbored with regards to her sister, or if she was worried that the piece of happiness she had finally carved out for herself would scatter on some unforeseeable gust.

Byakuya, however, was very different from her in that regard. If anything unnerved him he did not show it. His stillness had always fascinated her. He never appeared out of sorts. Just still – unshakable. And, she wondered if his imperturbable nature came from years of training, maturity, or if it was just innate.

She smiled coyly to herself before drawing closer and burying her head against his neck. Her warm breath drifted across his throat, eliciting a shiver on his part. Feeling his body tense under hers, Hisana glanced up to see that despite his uneasiness his peaceful expression did not crack. Yet, if the shiver was any indication she had caused him some discomfiture.

"Do you remember," Hisana began in a breathy voice that Byakuya struggled to hear, "the day we met?"

Byakuya hated that statement: ' _Do you remember…'_ Not only was it mawkish (and he loathed all things maudlin) it was always an ill portent. He could not remember one conversation that had started with that phrase and had ended well. People only became nostalgic when some impending doom laid on the horizon, he mused bitterly.

But it was Hisana, and he would humor her.

"Yes," he answered in voice that came out more clipped than intended.

She looked up at him, and for a second she swore she saw him blanch. She furrowed her brows at the perceived oddity. She hadn't anticipated eliciting  _that_ reaction from him… Was there something wrong?

He opened his eyes, and his gaze met hers. "What about the day that we met?" he prompted.

"It was five years ago. We met in February, remember?"

"Indeed, five years have passed."

"I remember that day well. The sky had been so blue – so perfect and blue. I don't believe I have ever thought that about any other day."

Byakuya smiled lugubriously. "It was a good day."

"I've had many good days since that one," Hisana said dreamily, cuddling into the small of his neck.

"What about you?" The moment she felt him stiffen under her, Hisana added, "Can you remember a day when there was a perfect sky?"

Byakuya glanced up at the ceiling, giving the question some serious thought. At first, he had nothing. He wasn't known for sky-gazing – at least not during the day. When he took his strolls they were mostly at night…

A few silent moments passed between them. Hisana was not certain whether or not he was going to answer her, or if he did whether she would be awake to hear his response.

"Yes… but it was a long time ago," he replied at length.

Hisana inclined her head and stared deeply into his face. She noted that he had closed his eyes, and she wondered if he was reminiscing. Choosing to believe that was what he was doing, she smiled dreamily at her husband. "What was happening then?" she asked in a soft airy voice.

A small almost imperceptible smile lengthened his lips. "I was being…"

' _Tortured'_  was the word he  _wanted_ to use. Indeed, one Yoruichi Shihōin had decided to partake in a good-natured game of "Torture the Kuchiki" that day. It had been during the Bon Festival and it had been a particularly lovely summer day. He, as usual, had been in a foul mood – bothered by some trifle or another (namely, being there among the uncouth denizens of Soul Society). He could not remember with whom he had been walking at the time. His father? His mother? His grandfather? A retainer? Either way, he had been giving him or her a rather hard time for no apparent reason other than he had been tired and hot. That is when Yoruichi had appeared out of nowhere as she was so often prone to doing.

Byakuya had a theory about Yoruichi's impromptu appearances – that they were mostly rescue attempts. The party on the rescuing end being, of course, the adult Byakuya had been irritating at the time. (He had never stopped to consider the possibility that the Demoniac Cat had been rescuing  _him_  from the boredom she knew had plagued him, having been in his shoes only a few years prior.)

Out of the blue Yoruichi had appeared. She had stood in the usual fashion dressed in her modified shinigami uniform sans her captain's haori; one hip had been jutted out as if she had been anticipating having to make a mad dash at any moment, and one hand had been firmly placed on the other hip. Then, there had been that devious gleam that had always radiated from her amber-colored eyes.

He had known she was up to something, and thus he had greeted her in the usual way: He had tucked in his chin, narrowed his eyes, and assumed a defensive posture. " _You_." It had become his favorite epithet for the wily woman second only to "Demon Cat". (The latter of which always garnered him some strange looks… so he used it less frequently.)

His name-calling or lack thereof never seemed to faze her. Instead, she had dangled his beloved hair ornament from the tips of her fingers. "Tsk, tsk, Little Kuchiki. I cringe to think of any warrior worth his salt who lets the weather impair his senses so… This is troublesome news for the future of the Sixth Division, wouldn't you say?" she taunted.

"I'll wipe that smug look off your face, Shihōin!"

And, in the usual fashion, one Byakuya Kuchiki had given chase after one Yoruichi Shihōin.

It had been late afternoon, and Yoruichi's path had deviated from the usual route. Byakuya had wondered why the sudden change, but had chalked the aberration up to the traffic caused by the festival. Little did he know that she had been  _testing_ him.

' _I've got you now, you insufferable…'_  He had thought with great satisfaction, feeling her reiatsu quicken, becoming more palpable with each step.

He thought he almost had her too… that is until he felt something slam into his throat. "Ugh!" he had gasped out indignantly, having sensed his equilibrium falter. Then, blackness consumed his senses. Indeed, the next thing Byakuya knew he had landed on his back in the dirt.

"What was  _that!_ " he had yelled, blinking back the confusion and darkness that had crept into his mind. He had rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, and attempted to sit up. The latter was not a particularly wise idea he would come to find out. Having almost assumed a seated posture, Byakuya had no choice but to yield to the sharp wave of nausea that was climbing up the back of his throat. He wavered for a moment before gravity got the best of him. Before he could sense a shift in equilibrium, he had fallen, and to top it off he had smacked his head on a large blunt rock on the way down.

"Ow!"

Yoruichi had taken her place atop the ledge of a very sharp cliff. "Well, you shouldn't throw yourself down like that. You know you could have killed yourself!" she had castigated him; although, the scolding was far from heated since she never turned her attention from the beautiful horizon.

"What?" he had snapped.

The question had fallen on deaf ears.

Refusing to look at Yoruichi, Byakuya had turned his piercing gaze skyward. The firmament had been painted vivid and vibrant colors of gold, orange, purple, and red. It had been awe-inspiring, and had worked to take the edge off his foul mood.

"You know, you could have killed me!" the Kuchiki scion soon spat, albeit rather half-heartedly.

Yoruichi had turned to give the heir a look-over. "I thought I'd teach you a lesson about minding your surroundings, kid. You were about to run right off that cliff, and for what?"

"You took something of mine!"

Yoruichi had scoffed in reply. "Was that it? You were going to kill yourself over a clip?"

"I didn't need your help then, and I never will!"

His tirade had elicited a hearty chuckle from Yoruichi. "Really? You would have sprouted wings and flown I'm sure…"

Then, silence.

The two sat sky-gazing amid a deafening silence. Both were trying to shove the other's presence from their heads, but neither had found much luck in doing so.

It had been Yoruichi who had broken the stillness that had fallen between them. "You need to be more level-headed, little Byakuya."

Looking back on it there had been a sobering quality to Yoruichi's voice – she had spoken to him as if she had been addressing a close friend or relative and not some petulant brat…

"Go on," Hisana encouraged, looking up at him with large imploring eyes.

Byakuya looked down at her and began his story. He did, however, take some creative license and tweaked a few less than savory parts regarding his youthful vigor.

Hisana watched him intently as he related his memory to her. She observed every change in expression, every subtle shift in line, and every gleam that radiated from those dark eyes. It had been a long time since she had seen him wear that boyish look – the same look he would get when a devious thought crossed his mind. (These devious machinations, at least in Hisana's experience, were few and far between, and when they did spring to fruition they were normally aimed at one or another of the nobles.)

"Where is Yoruichi Shihōin now?" she asked after he had finished. "I can tell by the way you speak about her that she is very important to you."

"Really?" he asked, quirking a brow at her observation

Hisana smiled diffidently. "Your eyes," she began, pausing to caress his brow, "they light up when you mention her."

Byakuya lowered his gaze, and his once cheerful expression blackened.

Her eyes widened in horror. "Did something happen?" she asked, mortified that she had inflicted pain on her husband.

He closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled a deep breath. "She is dead."

Hisana nearly choked on her own breath. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean t-"

"Don't. You did not know."

"I should not have -" she stopped herself; unsure of what to say.

There was so much she  _wanted_  to say but couldn't find the words. She wished the act of converting emotions into verbal expressions was easier. But, her voice failed her. Instead, Hisana averted her gaze and pressed her lips together.

' _He's lost so many already… I…'_  she couldn't complete the thought.

"It is getting late," she finally said, breaking the oppressive silence that had settled between them.

All it took was a single touch from her husband to stay her. "A moment," he whispered into her ear.

Hisana gladly obliged. "Of course-" She had scarcely managed to get the first syllable out of her mouth before she had been silenced by a kiss.

' _I am so sorry, Byakuya. I do not want to become only a memory like the others… But…I don't know how…'_


	14. Prescription

The mood at the Kuchiki estate was decidedly melancholic. Byakuya traced the familiar hallways of his ancestral home with a quickened step. Something was wrong – he could  _feel_ it.

He had a hard time sensing her presence even as he approached her quarters.

' _Lord Kuchiki, I would advise that you check on your wife,'_ had been the words his steward had greeted him the moment he had returned home.

Not that he needed to be told… Byakuya had sensed that something was amiss the moment he had stepped foot on the estate. He had been plagued by a clawing sense of dread – a dread that he could not place.

' _She has suddenly taken ill. It came on so quickly that we-'_

Byakuya did not need to be told twice. If his steward, who vacillated between feelings of ambivalence and outright loathing when it came to Hisana, seemed concerned then the matter must be dire, he concluded.

Before the steward had a chance to finish his sentence, Byakuya had already disappeared down an adjacent hallway.

"Lord Kuchiki!"

Byakuya halted the moment his name reached him from down the corridor. It had been Murasaki's voice that had beckoned – interrupting him from stepping into his wife's chambers.

' _What could it possibly be?'_  he thought irritably to himself. He turned swiftly on his heels. His brows were knitted together; he looked askance.

"It is Milady, Lord Kuchiki. She is not well and wishes for no one to disturb her."

His eyebrows shot up at the woman's statement. His steward had already apprised him of his wife's condition. The mere suggestion that he should wait until she was feeling herself amused him to no end, and not in a good way.

Murasaki bowed her head obsequiously. Her hands were clamped together in front of her, and her eyes were fixed on the floorboards. She was also chewing on her bottom lip as if she had something to tell him but had lost her nerve at the very last moment. "Milord." Her voice trembled as she spoke.

Byakuya, admittedly, was not helping to ease her anxiety. He stood straight as a board with his trademark look of unapproachable superiority. "Is there something you wish to say? Something about my wife and her ailment?"

She lifted her head just enough so that she could hastily examine his visage before lowering her gaze back to the floor. He looked impatient; this came as no surprise to her. She imagined that he was very worried about Lady Kuchiki. But…

"She took her medicine as instructed, but…" Feeling her breath catch in her throat, Murasaki's voice broke. "Soon after, her condition began to wane. We wanted to take her to the infirmary, but the doctor insisted that it was merely the effects of the medicine, and not to worry."

"Dr. Kaito changed her medications?"

Upon hearing this question, Murasaki inclined her head and looked her master calmly in the eye. His expression blackened. She could have predicted his next question.

"Why was I not informed of this?"

"No one save for the pharmacist was informed of this. I am not convinced that even the Lady herself was made aware of the change."

Byakuya's black eyebrows pulled together as he thought the situation over. "I see," he hummed more so to himself than to the handmaiden. He then turned to face the door to his wife's room.

"Don't be shocked when you see Lady Kuchiki," Murasaki warned politely from behind him. "Between spells of nausea and…  _purging_ … she has been experiencing violent bouts of shaking along with episodes of fainting."

Byakuya lowered his head respectfully, taking in the information Murasaki was providing. His steward, he then realized, had been woefully short on specifics.

Murasaki bowed her head morosely before adding, "I know her instructions were specific – that no one should disturb her. But, she looks so terrible, Lord Kuchiki."

When she had concluded, Byakuya turned his head just enough so that he could eye her from over his shoulder. "Thank you, Murasaki. You are dismissed."

She bowed low at the waist before noiselessly scurrying down the darkened corridor. Hearing her footsteps grow distant, Byakuya lowered his head and eyed the door. An overwhelming sense of anxiety clawed away at the pit of his stomach.

' _Hisana…'_

He lowered his gaze to the well polished floor and felt for her aura. Her spiritual pressure had been severely diluted, but he could still feel a faint pulse. It came in waves – weak, barely-there waves.

The moment he slid back the door, his piercing gaze searchingly roved the darkened room. Light from the corridor flooded into the space, providing enough illumination to expose the shrunken form resting on a futon in the middle of the capacious room. Byakuya closed his eyes momentarily the instant he saw her. It was painful – more painful than he cared to admit to himself.

The scraping and clacking of the door being drawn open had stirred Hisana from her slumber. The rectangle of searing light that fell over her only worked to draw her from any illusion she still had about returning to sleep. Slowly, lethargically, Hisana lifted her head and glanced up to see whom had entered the room. The moment she gazed into the scorching illumination she felt a wave of nausea hammer her stomach; slowly, it began to rise.

' _Stop, stop, stop,'_  she begged internally. Her stomach had purged its contents more than she cared to remember over the course of one day.  _'I have nothing left in me… I am nothingness…'_  Her eyes shut at the latter thought in reaction to the feeling of vertigo that overtook her.

Her whole world felt like it was spinning out of control, and her mental facilities were not exactly in tip-top condition either. She could have sworn that she had glimpsed her husband.  _'It must be an illusion. I wonder how much longer before I start seeing small colored animals walking around?'_

"Hisana?" Byakuya began, sliding the door closed behind him. Deciding that the room needed some source of light, he crossed the floor over to the doors leading to the garden. As quietly as possible, he rolled the doors back to let the moonlight into the room. "Hisana?" he repeated, taking to her side.

Hisana turned her head to face the sound, but her eyes remained tightly shut. It would take all the continence she could muster to fight back the urge to retch. Besides, she was fairly certain that the sound of her husband's voice was only a manifestation of her delirium.

Byakuya took her hand in his, hoping it would induce her to open her eyes. He had no such luck. She remained deathly quiet.

Byakuya gently caressed her hand. Her skin was stiff from sweat and she felt cold.  _'Too cold,'_  he mused, clearly perturbed.

"Hisana." This time he spoke her name with more force and volume.

She stirred at the sound of his voice in her ears. "Bya-" she began before snapping her mouth shut the moment she felt the bile in her stomach begin to rise once more. Instantly, she shot up into a seated position on her futon. She cupped her mouth with one hand, and untangled herself from her blankets with the other.

Before she could fully appraise her situation, she found herself in a familiar position – leaning over the toilet. Tears ran down her cheeks, collecting in beads on her chin, as she retched. Her stomach heaved in a painful rhythm as she purged whatever toxin had infected her. When it was over with, she teetered on her knees. She felt heavy, tired, and terribly weak. Everything hurt – her muscles, her head, her stomach, her throat, even her  _hair_  hurt. The same hair her husband was tenderly stroking as he stood bending over her.

"Lord Byakuya, is that  _really_  you?" she asked faintly.

The question struck him as intensely odd. Byakuya looked down at her; his gaze scrutinizing every detail about her. Hisana was pale – more wan than he had ever seen her before. Her eyes were sunken, dull, and betrayed her mental disarray. In a word, she looked  _horrible_.

"Byakuya," she murmured, reaching up for his hand to help brace herself as she attempted to stand.

Reflexively, he took her hand and helped her to her feet.

Hisana wobbled the moment she stood. The sudden change in position had inadvertently lowered her blood pressure. Her vision faded to black and her body broke from his.

Byakuya extended an arm, effortlessly scooping her up. Peering down into her face, his suspicions were confirmed; she had fainted. Gently, he lowered his head, letting his lips brush against the top of her forehead. She felt deathly cold – like a corpse. Byakuya shut his eyes for a moment as he evaluated his options. There was only one thing to do…

Tightening his grip on his wife, he made haste toward the Fourth Division infirmary.

The room was cold. It was stark white. It smelled of disinfectant.

Hisana did not even have to open her eyes to confirm her surroundings. The pungent smell, the stiff bed, and the hum and rhythmic beeping of monitors were clues enough.

Taking a moment to evaluate her internal status, Hisana's breathing quieted. Most of her symptoms were still present. Her stomach ached, her head pounded in synchrony with her pulse, and her limps still felt stiff and leaden. Even though all of these symptoms were present, they felt much less intense than they had before.

There was, however, a nagging sensation tugging at the back of her mind…

An untraceable smile parted her pale, cracked lips. Tiredly, she walked her hand over a few inches before resting it on top of her husband's. She had finally discerned what that nagging presence was. She could feel his spiritual pressure wash over her as she laid there with eyes firmly shut.

' _He must be sleeping,'_  she thought rather contentedly to herself.  _'He usually represses it when he is awake…'_  It had taken her some getting used to because unchecked his reiatsu could be oppressive. Now, she felt it comforting – like a security blanket. She felt safe – another feeling that was an acquired taste.

The moment she felt his reiatsu subside, Hisana opened her eyes and turned her head to face him. "Good morning." She greeted him with a smile.

Byakuya blinked back his grogginess, giving her a look that betrayed him as not being  _completely there._  He inhaled deeply before sitting up straight in his chair. "How are you feeling?" he asked once he had collected his wits about him.

Her smile lengthened almost playfully in response. "I've been better," she answered earnestly. "You look a little rough though," she teased.

A subtle smile pulled the corners of his mouth slightly upward. "Oh, do I?" he retorted drily.

Hisana squeezed his hand in reply. "How long have you been here?"

"A while. You've been asleep for three days."

Hisana's child-like eyes widened. "Really?" she murmured incredulously. She could hardly believe that so much time had escaped her between then and now.

"You appear to be in a better state," he reassured her, having detected the look of panic writing its way across her face.

"I feel a lot better." She, of course, was stretching the truth a bit.

"You look tired," he observed off-handedly.

"I still  _feel_  tired."

"The physicians said that was natural considering…"

' _That I was comatose?'_  Hisana's inner voice added caustically.

"Did they determine what caused it?"

Byakuya averted his gaze from hers the moment she made the inquiry. His brows lowered, and his jaws clenched in reply.  _'Yes… you were poisoned.'_  He  _wanted_  to speak those words. He wanted to say it, but some unseen force stopped him. Some little tether snapped in his head, restraining his forthrightness.

"How much of the medicine were you prescribed?" he digressed.

Hisana's gaze drifted to the bare white wall in front of her. "I think it was a pill. I was supposed to take it three times a day. After the first two doses, I began feeling very ill. I discarded the rest of the medicine shortly thereafter. Why?"

He inhaled deeply, focusing his attention on the fan swirling directly above her bed. "Do you still have the dosing instructions?"

Hisana shook her head. "No, I threw it away with the pills. Why?"

' _Why would he ask?'_  Her thoughts were fixed on that simple question. It only took her a moment before her mind ascertained a reason for him to posit such an absurd question.  _'Does he…?'_

"You don't think that I tried to over-"

"No," he answered, interrupting her before she could get the word out of her mouth. God, how he did not want to hear it sound from her lips. He shook his head at the thought.

Dr. Kaito, however, had been quick to offer that as an explanation for the poisoning: ' _No, the instructions I gave were very specific. I made sure of this because of the potency of this particular medicine. Every provision was taken to make sure this did not occur,_ ' the good doctor had assured him the morning after Byakuya had taken Hisana to the infirmary.

_'Isn't it possible, Captain Kuchiki, that she attempted to extinguish her own life? She has always been somewhat aloof and melancholic, especially as of late. Or, perhaps, she misinterpreted the directions with deleterious results?'_

Byakuya sat with a blackened look on his face as he considered the countless possibilities that almost resulted in Hisana's death. It did not make any sense for the doctor to be lying, he had come to believe. Dr. Kaito had been the family's physician for years. He was a very scrupulous man who was well regarded and respected by many in the Seireitei. Yet, it also did not make sense for Hisana to overdose.

He furrowed his brows as he sat in quiet contemplation.

"Lord Byakuya." Her soft voice was successful in breaking through his thoughts. "You look so troubled. You are not seriously entertaining the thought that -"

"No," he answered in the same firm and clipped voice he had used before. Hearing how harsh he sounded, he shook his head and tried once more. "No, Hisana, I am not considering the possibility. But…"

She reached over and gently brushed an untamed stand of hair from his eyes. With a soft stare, she admired him for a moment. It was rare for him to travel far from home without donning either his shinigami garb or his noble raiment. But, then he looked quite common fitted in a deep blue kimono with his hair unfettered by his kenseikan.

Smiling, Hisana closed her eyes unable to focus her thoughts. They wandered aimlessly, fluidly from one trifling matter to another – none of which made the least bit of sense. But, then again, she was excessively tired. So very, very exhausted…

Byakuya watched her drift off to sleep. She still looked so small in that hospital bed. Her skin was almost as white as the sheets pooling around her diminutive form. As he sat by her bedside watching her, he could not help but to feel disturbed by both her sickness and the questions that plagued him.

Any attempt he made at solving these burning mysteries, however, came to a screeching halt the moment he heard the door to the room creak back on its hinges. Without missing a beat, he turned his head and sights on the person crossing the threshold. It was Captain Unohana who gracefully slid into the room.

"Captain Kuchiki," she greeted pleasantly. "I hope I am not disturbing anything."

He bowed his head respectfully before shaking his head. He was somewhat shocked to see her, he had to admit. "Lady Kuchiki woke for a brief moment," he replied softly.

She had settled comfortably into the room. Drawing to Hisana's bedside and gently lifting her wrist so she could take the woman's pulse. "Yes, she had been doing that since late yesterday evening. If you can remember, for how long did she remain conscious?"

"Approximately ten minutes."

Unohana nodded her head in approval. "Very good. She seems to be improving." She gently resituated Hisana's hand back down on the bed.

"How are you feeling, Captain?" she asked, taking a small step backwards to examine the machines.

"Well," he murmured somewhat disheartened.

Unohana cocked her head to the side, and gave him a discerning look. "You seem very tired yourself. I would hate to have to admit both of you."

Her warning was understood. Byakuya unconsciously nodded his head in agreement.

"From what doctor Nara and doctor Kaito tell me and from what I can see, her condition is improving. She should be healed in a week or so."

"What about the medicine?"

Unohana clasped her hands demurely in front of her as she considered the implications of Byakuya's question. "I severely reduced the dosage, but I suppose that was not the question you were pondering," she noted perceptively. "It likely that one of the students at the pharmacy made a mistake when they filled the prescription," she offered in a soothing voice.

Byakuya truly wanted to believe that, but the more cynical side of his brain remained unconvinced.

"The medicine prescribed for Lady Kuchiki, however, does seem," she paused for a moment unsure of how to tactfully word her sentence, "a bit disproportionate considering her medical history, but I am not her primary physician…"

Byakuya lowered his head in reply. She had already done so much…

She bowed politely before turning to leave. "Captain Kuchiki, please get some rest."

He lifted his gaze long enough to meet hers, and solemnly nodded his head.

Hisana sat poised over the cherry wood desk stationed in the library. In her hand was a well inked brush, and in front of her sat her journal. She had only recently considered keeping one. It had been pure boredom that had prompted her into doing so; that, and she wanted to leave something meaningful behind for her sister.

It had been close to a week since she had been released from the infirmary, and she could not have felt in better spirits. Color had returned to her cheeks brighter than ever. Her pains and fatigue had all but disappeared. Her spiritual pressure, weak as it was, had almost returned to full capacity. In fact, she could not remember feeling better save for perhaps when she first arrived at the estate.

She had also been medicine free for over two weeks.

This little coincidence did not go unnoticed by Hisana. Every day her strength returned to her without the use of medication, the more convinced she became that it was the medicines that had been exacerbating or, worse, causing her illness.

Not taking the prescribed medicines, however, required clandestine actions on her part. She was  _supposed_  to be taking them. After the incident, Byakuya had even crafted specific instructions for his steward regarding the measurements and spacing of her medicine. As per Byakuya's instructions, a small army of pills accompanied every meal served to her. Managing to skirt every dosage required a good deal of fortitude on Hisana's part. First, there was making it look like she was actually taking the damnable things. This was no easy task because it meant that she had to do  _something_ with the pills. At first, she had stuffed them into a small envelope she had concealed inside her kimono. Then, she would place the envelope somewhere safe until she could figure out what to do with the pills themselves. However, paranoia soon set in. What if someone discovered her envelope? It was totally possible that one of the servants or (heaven forbid) Byakuya to catch on to her chicanery, or, at the very least, stumble upon the envelope filled with pills.

Hisana then decided to place the pills she received in the envelope, and then when the chance arose she would take the envelope and flush its contents down the toilet. This routine worked rather well for her morning and afternoon meals. Dinner, however, was another matter entirely since she often took her evening meal in the presence of husband. Nearly every night she considered swallowing the loathsome pills she was forced to place in her mouth. Yet, she could not do it. Instead, she forced them to the side of her mouth, swallowed the water with which she would have normally used to swallow them down, and then she would surreptitiously spit them into her napkin. It was amateurish, she knew. It was only a matter of time before one of the servants would figure out what she was doing, and she felt terrible about the daily deceptions. But, she could not think of any other way. She doubted that Byakuya would be very welcoming of her decision to cease all intake of medicine. She was quite sure that he would feel that she was placing her health in danger…

Glancing at her lunch plate from over her journal, Hisana grimaced. She had been served an assortment of rice, vegetables, fish, and fruit. The food remained untouched, and by now she was fairly sure that it was stone cold. In a small paper container situated on the tray sat the medicines. She eyed the four multicolored pills with great contempt.

' _Maybe you're making this all up in your head. Maybe the pills aren't really making you sick. Maybe you're just sick of keeping of with the daily regimen.'_

Hisana pursed her lips together as she considered taking the medications. Hesitantly, she reached across the tray. She was about to pluck one of the pills from the container when her hand spooked the moment she heard the door slide open.

"Milady, you have yet to touch your meal!" Murasaki called from across the cavernous space.

Hisana turned her head and glanced over at her handmaiden. "No, I'm afraid that I am not particularly hungry today."

"You can't take your medicine on an empty stomach!" she chastised albeit rather politely.

Hisana forced a smile and tilted her head to the side. "I know, perhaps I can just skip this meal and dosing just once?"

"Oh, no!" Murasaki gasped, drawing closer to her mistress. "Milord would be most displeased. His instructions are taxingly specific. No detail is left to chance."

Hisana smiled bitterly.  _'He does it out of care, I know_ ,' she thought somberly to herself.  _'But…'_  she shook the thought aside and shoved it to the back of her mind.

"Go on, eat, Milady."

Hisana shook her head. "I'm just not very hungry."

"Well, no wonder!" Murasaki chuckled. "Your food has gone cold by now! I'll just take this tray and go fetch you some fresh food."

"Please, it's quite alright. I'm just not…"

"No, no, it is no problem. Really," the handmaiden chirped as she slid the tray off the desk.

Hisana quickly caught Murasaki's wrist. "Please, I beg of you. I am not hungry nor am I interested in taking those medicines."

Murasaki's eyes widened the instant she heard the distress emanating from her mistress's voice.

"I'm sorry, but I just can't. I can't take those – those –  _things_  any longer!" Hisana cried, her voice bordering on either desperation or rage.

Glancing down at her Mistress's hand wrapped around her wrist, Murasaki furrowed her brows. She found Hisana's grip equal parts tremulous and cold. Hisana was fighting back tears and fear, the handmaiden silently noted to herself. Murasaki opened her mouth to speak words of comfort, but she could not summon her voice. Instead, she stood with her mouth agape, looking quite foolish she imagined. It did not matter for when she attempted to establish eye contact with her Mistress, she found that Hisana's line-of-sight was just slightly beyond her. If Hisana could have looked through Murasaki, the handmaiden was quite certain she would have.

"Milady?" she whispered, observing Hisana's expression.

Hisana blanched. Her eyes widened to the size of half-dollars, and her lips parted. She appeared panic-stricken.

"What?" Murasaki looked askance toward the door to the room. Reflexively, her eyes widened and her heart skidded to a halt. "Mr. Kishu." The breath she used to utter his name caught in her throat, quickly extinguishing any further inquiry.

Byakuya's steward quietly stood in the doorway wearing a dourly expression. He did not look pleased, and there was no telling how long he had been standing there or how much of the conversation to which he had been privy.

Hisana was fairly certain he had heard enough. She released her handmaiden's wrist, and tucked her hands in her lap. _'He knows,'_  she thought compunctiously. Her brows lowered, and she averted her gaze to the floor in defeat.

Indeed, Kishu  _had_ heard everything. He had heard Hisana pleading with Murasaki. He knew that Hisana did not want to take her medicine. It would not be a stretch for him to believe that she had ceased taking her pills long before her effusion.

"Ms. Murasaki," Kishu summoned in a low tenor.

Keeping her eyes glued to her mistress, Murasaki chewed on her bottom lip. She did not want to leave Hisana's side, but… Feeling her body heat under the steward's penetrating glare, Murasaki hesitantly turned to face him. Carved into her features was an expression of worriment. Taking a few steps forward, she eyed Hisana from over her shoulder. Oh, how she dearly wanted to return to her Lady's side! Instead, she bowed her head in shame and walked toward Kishu.

' _I'm so sorry,'_  she thought to herself, glancing over at her mistress for the last time before exiting the room.

Kishu folded his arms against his chest, and continued to stare at Hisana.  _'So insolent,'_  he thought wearily.

Despite his burning gaze, she refused to acknowledge his presence. Her attention remained fixed on the floorboards. In fact, if Kishu did not know better he would have assumed that she was capable of blocking out his company entirely.

He, however, knew better.  _'Obstinate woman,'_  his inner voice hissed.

The tension in the room was steadily building until it became palpable, and she acted as if nothing bothered her. She appeared quite placid. Any traces of worry and any lines of vexation had disappeared from her countenance.

"What is it, Kishu?" Hisana had a listless quality about her as she broke the heavy silence.

"You have not been taking your medications have you, Lady Kuchiki?" Kishu came dangerously close to chastising in tone.

His voice, however, did not perturb Hisana in the slightest. She had become accustomed to Kishu's bitter treatment. In fact, at times she had come to relish the steward's thinly veiled barbs and caustic remarks; it kept her honest at least.

She sighed to herself. "No. I simply refuse."

Kishu pursed his lips together as he considered her statement. "You cannot refuse. You have your health to consider."

His words elicited a scathing stare on Hisana's part. "Do you not think I am considering my health with this decision?"

The question was rhetorical, Kishu knew, but he could not help himself. "No, I do not. I think you are being rash and petulant all at the cost to your well-being." Had he crossed the line as a servant? Probably. Did he care? Not noticeably so.

She turned her cheek to him in response. Her jaws tightened, her lips pulled into a thin line, and her expression darkened.

"I will have Murasaki fetch you some food and you will take your medicines as per Dr. Kaito's instructions," Kishu informed her rather sternly.

Hisana said not a word.

"She simply refuses, Milord." Byakuya was quickly apprised the moment he crossed the threshold to his estate.

"It is sinful," Kishu hissed in bitter defeat, stripping Byakuya of his captain's haori.

Byakuya shot his steward a disapproving stare, prompting the man to discontinue his current line of discourse.

Kishu heaved a sigh, releasing some of his pent up frustration.

Stopping in front of a decorative mirror, Byakuya unfastened his kenseikan and carefully removed it. "How long has she been refusing her medicine?" Byakuya asked evenly.

"She will not say, but I suspect it is a recent event."

Byakuya lowered his head, keeping his eyes on the hair ornament. Something about that statement rang false. From what he could tell, Hisana took her medicine every night when they dined together. "I see. Is that all?"

The corners of Kishu's lips sloped into a frown. "Yes. Is there anything else you desire, Milord?"

"No."

Kishu bowed politely before dismissing himself.

Byakuya closed his eyes for a moment. It had been a tedious day at the division. The prospect of confronting his wife did not bode well for the noble.

' _I'll address it when we take our meal tonight,'_ he thought tiredly to himself.

It was quiet – too quiet. Hisana sat staring into her bowl of rice at one end of the table. Byakuya sat at the other end, gazing into his curry dish.

The pair had not even bothered to exchange pleasantries. The two had just taken to their respective places. Then, the deafening silence had ensued.

Braving the tension, Hisana hastily glanced over at her husband. He looked pensive.  _'I wonder what he is thinking about.'_

' _Why don't you ask him?'_  the more cynical part of her interjected.

She tilted her head to the side as she gave the prospect some thought before her thoughts drifted to another more pressing matter.  _'I wonder if he knows?'_ Instinctively, her gaze turned to the small paper container of pills. All four of them sat there – just staring her in the face. She shut her eyes at the thought of having to swallow the tablets. Her throat instantly went dry and her mouth parched in response.

She couldn't do it. She would have to stand her ground if asked. There was no more hiding it. No more ridiculous schemes or plots.

Placing the rim of his cup of tea to his lips, Byakuya eyed Hisana. She looked anxious – as if she had something pressing to relate to him but was stalling. She looked distant as well. "How are you feeling?" he asked, finally breaking the tense stillness between them.

Hisana lifted her head and gaze toward him. "Well. Very well indeed." She paused, searching for the right words to squelch the silence. "How was your day?"

It was all so very glib, Byakuya could not help but noting to himself. Conversation was only ever this stilted when something was rebarbative – something that neither of them wished to confront but knew it was only a matter of time.

Feeling the tension return, Hisana looked over at him. For an instant, the two made eye-contact. His dark eyes held her gaze fast, and she shivered. If she had not known better, she would have been convinced that he could see  _through_ her – he could pierce through her armor, leaving her completely vulnerable and exposed. Hisana hated that feeling. But, she also hated the feeling of hiding things from him as well. He had been so kind… so utterly kind to her, and this was how she repaid him? With lies and secrets?

Hisana lowered her gaze to her rice bowel. "I'm sorry," she murmured softly.

"So it is true?" It was not so much a question as it was an observation.

She pressed her lips together and nodded solemnly in reply.

"You have been refusing to take your medicine?"

She lifted her head and stared up at the ceiling and then the walls. Her gaze traveled the room, or as much of the room as possible while still being careful to avoid the space he occupied. "Yes," she answered meekly.

"You need to take them. For your health."

She inhaled a deep breath, hoping it would help clear her thoughts. It did not. It only managed to dry the remaining moisture in her already parched throat. "I can't." Her response was so faint that it took Byakuya a few moments to fully register what she had just said.

"This issue is not debatable," he stated flatly.

"Indeed, it is not. It is either one way or the other, and I feel that the patient reserves the right to have a say in her own prescription. Rejection is my right and my right alone."

Byakuya inclined his head and stared at her with those cold shark-like eyes of his. His expression, Hisana was sure, could probably intimidate the best of warriors. Its effectiveness on her, however, was nonexistent. She imagined at one time she would have cowered under such a blackened look. Now, she would not. Now, she returned his stare with an air of impassivity.

"Why?" he seethed through clenched teeth.

"Because I feel better without them."

He turned his head at the very thought. "You're being…"

'… _foolish,'_  was the word he wanted to use, but he managed to catch himself in time.

"You're being irresponsible."

Hisana furrowed her brows. "I'm sorry, Lord Kuchiki. But, I cannot deny my feelings on the matter. I believe that I feel better without those… those…" Frustrated, she tightly shut her eyes, and balled her hands into fists.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes as he watched her. He remained unmoved by her emotional display. "Take your pills. It is an order."

Enraged, her eyes widened in response. "What?" she asked, not believing what she had just heard.

He stared blankly into her eyes. His unreadable dark eyes boring into her own only intensified the anguish she was experiencing. Frustrated and feeling somewhat defeated, Hisana angrily knocked over the container full of medicine.

Reflexively, Byakuya took to his feet. Hisana responded in kind. Both stood only a few feet apart glaring at the other.

"Nothing in this world or the next could induce me to take  _that_ ," she paused to point at the spilt pills, "that  _poison_!"

Byakuya said nothing in reply. Instead, he just calmly watched her through those calculating eyes. Those very eyes that unnerved her and enflamed her anger.

"And, you can save your orders for your subordinates," she added acerbically.

Byakuya straightened his posture and lifted his head in retort. "You are being  _foolish_."

Hisana braced herself against the sting of his words. Swallowing her pride and pain, she turned her head to the side, refusing to look him in the face. She would not allow him to see the effect their spat was having on her. No. But, if she was going to keep up the façade of indifference, she was going to have to depart shortly before she unraveled into a fit of tears.

She shook her head. "Maybe I am, but I know that when I stopped taking those tablets I started feeling better. And if I had to choose, I choose feeling well to feeling dead-like. I don't care if that concentrated poison goes about masquerading as the panacea to all of my problems."

Returning her attention to her husband, Hisana could see his mask of stoicism was beginning to crack. The lines of his face were less harsh. His eyes no longer appeared deadened and shark-like; no, now a small gleam radiated from them.

Fighting back the tears, Hisana shook her head; she was clearly distressed. "I'm sorry," she said, turning toward the door.

Byakuya reached out, and with swift ease he caught her arm. His grip was firm and unyielding.

Hisana turned to face him. The tears she had been fighting back finally spilled from her eyes. She wanted dearly to leave with what little shred of pride she still had left. But, she stood still, trying everything in her power not to look at him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before sliding her arm from his grip.

Byakuya watched as she disappeared into the darkened hallway. His brows knitted together as he considered her previous words.

None of it made any sense.

What was he to do?

Who was he to believe?


	15. A Barrier

Men and women create many barriers when it comes to understanding one another. Some of these barriers are in place long before either person enters the world. Others are manufactured through misunderstandings, miscommunications, or are further exacerbated by ritual. Neither is sure how he or she came to the conclusions they hold with regard to the other. Yet, both feel partially if not wholly justified when they reach their conclusions.

_She's too emotional._

_He's too removed._

_She talks too much._

_He doesn't listen._

The scripts have been there for eons upon eons. Our choice is whether or not to follow them. Can we make that decision?

' _Is it that simple?'_  Hisana pressed her lips together as she considered the quagmire facing her.  _'Can I really just stop it all? Do I have it in me to stand up to this? To him? Does it matter? What if he's right and I am just being foolish?'_

The deluge of questions had plagued her all night. She could not get to sleep in that cold, empty bed. Instead of resting, Hisana sat in front of her desk. Pen was tightly gripped in hand, hovering over fresh parchment. Tiredly, she closed her eyes. Her head hurt from the mental gymnastics she had put herself through. Whatever words her internal self wished to create on that sheet would go unfettered. She closed her eyes and began.

"I feel," were the first two words she penned. "…better," was the third. Hisana glanced down to read her writing. She was only vaguely aware of what she had put to parchment. Reading the thick black characters back to herself, she could not resist the lugubrious smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, Byakuya," she whispered softly to herself. Finding her resolve in the quiet peace of her mind, she shut her journal closed and placed it inside her desk. "On this I will not falter, I cannot."

* * *

 

It was hard at first. The servants were tenacious. She had to give them at least that much credit. They loved, obeyed, and perhaps feared their master with every inch of their collective hearts. But, with each repast she stood her ground.

She drank the tea. She picked at her food. She refused the tablets.

With each meal, Hisana could detect the servants' mounting frustration and panic; they grew exponentially every time she refused. No amount of, "But Lord said," could deter her.

Hisana, however, took no pleasure in her daily rejections. Instead, she felt a part of her crumble, fade, and die. She found it hard to live within those oppressive halls. They had become increasingly cold and menacing without her husband's favor. And, indeed, Byakuya held fast to his beliefs. He refused to seek her out until she had bent to his will. Of all the torture she had to endure, she was sure that his was the worst. It would only take so long before her resolve was shredded to bits, she was sure.

"Lady Kuchiki," Murasaki greeted her mistress in a pleading tone. Her voice soft and held the weight of a lament.

"I'm not dead yet, Murasaki. No use in you sounding like I am," Hisana noted matter-of-factly as she entered the estate. It had been a long day scouring Rukongai for her sister. It would be an even longer night she was sure judging by the tenor in Murasaki's voice.

"But, Mistress, please. Just this once, please?" Murasaki lingered on the last word a few moments too long.

Hisana glanced down at the tray her handmaiden held clutched tightly against her chest. Fish, rice, vegetables, tea, and pills adorned the tray. She plucked the cup of tea from its place and took a sip. It tasted bitter… inordinately bitter. The flavor was not new, Hisana observed indignantly. The tea over the past few days had taken on an almost acerbic taste, and she had a faint idea what was behind the sudden change in flavor.

With a wooden "clack", Hisana placed the cup back down on the tray. "How long?" she asked, eyeing the handmaiden with a perceptive gleam in her eye.

"What?" Murasaki feigned innocence.

' _Typical,'_  Hisana thought ruefully to herself. She lowered her gaze. "I thought so," she murmured, pressing past the handmaiden.

"Milady!" Murasaki called from behind her. "It was the doctor's orders. Please!"

Hisana did not slow her cadence nor did she pause. Instead, she steadily wound her way in the direction of her chambers. Along the way she crossed Kishu's path. Her piercing gaze did not betray her anger nor did it rise to meet his eyes.

"Lady Kuchiki," he muttered soberly under his breath as he watched her disappear into her room.

* * *

 

The Kuchiki manor had become akin to an armed camp. The servants remained split and torn between the two polarizing forces – between the Lord and the Lady of the house. Most remained loyal to Lord Kuchiki, but many of them could not help but feel some solidarity with Lady Kuchiki. None of them knew exactly what to do.

Who was right?

The younger servants were not quite so sure of themselves when it came to answering that question. They could see both sides with greater ease than the older servants who were fiercely loyal to Lord Kuchiki.

"He knows what's right for his own wife," they would hiss in hushed voices.

The younger ones tried their best to defend the Lady's decision. "Perhaps she  _should_  be left to decide her own prescription. She knows how her body feels best!" they would argue albeit half-heartedly.

"Why would Dr. Kaito lie to the Lord? Lady Kuchiki is not a trained physician. What does she know? It's all in her head."

"But the medicine has made her sick once before. Maybe it's poison to her?"

The elders would scoff this off as a matter of opinion. (Some of whom were clearly of the mind that Hisana had attempted to overdose on the medicine.)

Neither Lord nor Lady knew of the commotion their actions had caused. Both were blissfully blind to the strain they placed on their house staff…

* * *

 

Byakuya stubbornly returned to the estate whenever it was feasible. He could feel the sentiments that were better left unsaid the moment he passed her quarters. He knew that stifling, oppressive feeling well. But, he was innately obstinate and proud, and he would win at all cost. When he decided this, the quarrel had lost all pretenses of his actions being in her best interest. It had become a battle – a battle of the wits – and Byakuya was not keen on losing.

He had contacted Dr. Kaito shortly after their spat to apprise the good doctor of the situation.

"Don't worry, Lord Kuchiki," Kaito had assured him. "If she does not come to her senses in the next week call me again. I'll have the solution."

The solution? It had been breaking the capsules open and mixing the medicine into her tea. "She'll notice a subtle change in flavor, but I doubt she'll think it is due to it being laced. Just tell her it is a new brand of tea," had been Kaito's new prescription.

Byakuya had won. It was an unceremonious and hollow win, but she would be receiving her medicine, and if she still felt in good health then he could dispel that myth she had created in her head with ease. His complicity, he was sure, would be justified in time even if it would take more time for her to forgive him. He was willing to risk it, because he would rather be damned than let her slip through his fingers quicker than her fate had already allotted.

A soft knocking sound alerted Byakuya to a presence lingering outside his chambers. "Milord?" It was Kishu.

"Yes," he murmured in a low tenor.

Kishu slid the door back. He appeared inordinately tired and his features were drawn. Quietly, he remained kneeled behind the room's threshold.

The steward's presence elicited an imperceptible sidelong glance from Byakuya. "What is it?" he muttered after a few awkward moments had passed between the two.

Inhaling a deep breath, Kishu opened his mouth but quickly smacked his lips together. He was not sure how to go about conveying the sentiments he had in his head. So often phrases sound so much better in one's mental abyss, he mused anxiously. "It is about, Milady," he began hesitantly.

Byakuya turned to get a better look at his steward. His eyes widened, and his lips parted. Clearly, he was preparing himself for the worst.

Astutely reading his master's expression, Kishu made a dismissive gesticulation with his hand. "No, no, it is nothing like that. She seems to be in good health. It is just…"

"What?" It was a solemn inquiry.

Kishu glanced up at the ceiling.  _'I can't believe I'm even doing this,'_  he thought with great amusement. "The Lady has discovered the -"

" _Medicina_ l tea?" Byakuya interrupted, turning back to focus on the papers adorning his desk.

"Indeed. She was not pleased."

"Is that all, Kishu?"

The steward pressed his lips together and clenched his jaws. "Would it be too forward of me," Kishu paused for a moment to inwardly cringe at the sound of the words coming from his mouth, "to make a suggestion?" He knew that by asking the question that he was overstepping the line of decorum. He also knew that his master was very strict when it came to following the rules, socially mandated or otherwise.

Byakuya did not flinch. "No," he answered simply.

It took a few moments for the steward to process and to fully comprehend his master's reply. A sensation of uneasiness instantly overcame him – like he had been plunged into a bath of ice water. Regaining his composure, Kishu began: "Perhaps it would be prudent for the Lord of the House to speak with the Lady regarding such acts of duplicity. I could see the potential for her taking it the  _wrong way_."

"You are dismissed," Byakuya responded curtly.

' _I wonder if that is indefinitely,'_  Kishu could not help but think as he slid the door closed in front of him before leaving.

Eyeing the stack of papers in front of him, Byakuya heaved a sigh. It was no use, he thought to himself. His concentration had been broken as had his resolve. Wearily, he gathered the documents, straightened the papers by giving the stack's end a solid thump on the desk, and placed them into a drawer.

And then he sat – alone and with nothing to occupy his attention. Nothing, that is, except for the nagging feeling that he had some unfinished business. He lowered his head and inhaled a deep breath. Absently, his gaze drifted to the shadows sprawling across the wall in front of him. Dusk was falling; it would not be long before the moon took the sun's throne high in the sky.

' _Hisana,'_  he thought sullenly to himself. Perhaps Kishu had a point? Perhaps, he should try to reconcile with his wife. _This_  – this dark cloud that had come over their relationship – was insufferable and petty. It was the height of silliness! But…

He straightened his posture and shook his head. The situation with Hisana was, he feared, now beyond his control. How could he confront her? She would be feeling pangs of isolation and anguish. Her discovery of his betrayal would be…  _troublesome_  to address.

Unnerved and feeling tension build in his muscles, Byakuya stood and crossed the floor. With a swift motion, he yanked back the door leading to the garden. He shut his eyes, and inhaled a deep breath.

It was early spring. The air still had a stinging quality when the breeze picked up, but he resisted the urge to withdrawal back into his chambers for a moment so he could enjoy the refreshing fragrance of the newly blossoming flora. Nature's perfume wafted over him, soothing him.

It was kismet that when he opened his eyes to survey the garden that his gaze met his wife's. Hisana was standing across the garden, lingering in the doorway to her chambers. She did not appear to be out of sorts, Byakuya noted. Then, again, she was good at hiding her emotions… He still had her attention, he sighed to himself. It was a small step forward. At least she had not fled into her room at the sight of him.

"It is a good evening for a stroll." Her voice was at once soft and even as she made the suggestion.

Byakuya did not need to be told twice. He quietly shut the door behind him and met her at the small pond.

Remembering himself, Byakuya offered her his arm. Hisana glanced down at it. Surreptitiously, he watched her as she contemplated whether or not to accept. He was sure that she was going to refuse his gesture. The two had already begun to wordlessly wind their way through the garden, but at the last moment Hisana gently slipped her arm through his. So shocked to feel the warmth of his wife's arm against his own, Byakuya glanced down for confirmation.

It was an improvement, he thought to himself.

Returning to the area from where they had begun their stroll, Hisana paused to observe the carp swimming in the pond. With a graceful ease about her, she bent down to get a better look at the fish's shadowy forms in the moonlight. Byakuya stood still and silent beside her. He was not certain what to do or say. He had an  _idea_  that he needed to make amends, but the execution eluded him as it often did when it came to expressing himself on emotion and feelings.

' _I'm sorry,'_  were the first words that flashed to mind as he thought the situation over. Byakuya, however, was loathe to apologize especially when he was unsure for what he was exactly apologizing. He was also certain that Hisana would know that it was mendacity.

Yet, he felt the urge to say  _something, anything_. He had nothing. It was either too maudlin, transparent or it was an insult to his wife's intellect.

"I'm not mad at you," she said softly.

Byakuya blinked in response, unsure of whether or not he heard those words or merely imagined them. "Oh?"

Still crouched by the pond, Hisana lifted her head and turned to give him a sidelong glance. "No. I was being foolish to waste the energy," she sighed. She returned her attention to the pond, and hugged bent knees.

Byakuya lowered his brows in response. He was not sure what to make of her last statement. "I don't -"

"You thought you were acting in my best interest. I may not agree with your assessment, but you thought you were helping me. How could I possibly be angry with those intentions?" she said, incidentally cutting him off mid-sentence. "However, I am not very pleased with the tactics you used," she added, making sure to punctuate her disdain for his behavior with a pointed glare.

Reflexively, Byakuya lifted his head, trying his best to look aloof and unreadable – a strategy he learned at a very young age. "I understand."

Hisana turned to face the pond. Absently, she rubbed her hands together, and thought over their current predicament. The anxiety simmering away deep in the pit of her stomach she could not deny. At first she had fancied herself angry. She had every right to be. Her husband had betrayed her trust and for what exactly?

' _Why did he do it?'_  She had been mulling over that question all night. However, coming up with all of the possible explanations that could justify her anger had proved to be a tiring endeavor. A barrage of musings that flooded her mind had left her exhausted and nonplused.

How could she respond? When had she lost control? The aforementioned question had bothered her intensely. She had not  _lost_  control but rather she had  _given_ it away, she had concluded. Intuitively, she had known the tea was laced. She had known for the past few days.

' _But, why did I wait to confront Murasaki about it?'_  She could not help but question her own motivations.  _'Had I let him win this? Had I forfeited this round on purpose?'_

Now, as her gaze drifted over the pond, she was sure that she had found her explanation. She no longer wanted to fight with him. She wanted to reconcile, but she also wanted the latitude to choose her own prescription. Her two desires were in direct opposition to one another, and it had become clear to her that she was the one who would have to play the role of the catalyst.

Running a hand over the bottom of her kimono, Hisana moved to stand. Uncoiling herself as she began to straighten, she tottered.  _'Ah,_ ' her inner voice cried inside her head the moment she felt her equilibrium subside. Before panic had the time to settle in the pit of her stomach, she was swiftly stabilized by her husband's efforts.

Wrapped in the comfort of a warm embrace, Hisana rested her cheek against his chest. It had been a while…

"I'm sorry," he murmured in a voice so quiet that she had to strain to hear him.

Realizing what he had just said, Hisana's eyes widened momentarily. She could not resist the warm tingling of satisfaction bubbling inside of her. Relishing in the comfort of the moment, she closed her eyes and relaxed in his arms.

"Ditto," she uttered into the fabric of his kimono.

Byakuya bowed his head, and with a soft touch he slid his index finger under her chin and nudged her head up so he could look her in the face. He had wanted to say something to her – something meaningful, sincere, and comforting. He had wanted to suggest an end to their difference - to compromise. While all of these intentions swirled in his mind, Byakuya's lips remained unmoved. A placid silence fell between the two. The two shared a long gaze. His eyes were dark and probing, and hers were lit by resolution.

"Wh?" she began but was interrupted the moment she felt the soft caress of his mouth pressed against hers. Any reluctance or apprehension she had once harbored toward making amends with her husband instantly vaporized. Her hope that the two would find to a solution to their problems also went up in smoke.

It seemed that there would be little talking that night at least as Byakuya led Hisana toward his chambers. ..


	16. Over the Pond

Spring had finally sprung and with the season came a plethora of color, fragrances, and festivities. The latter of which bothered Hisana (and Byakuya) endlessly. The command performances expected from the noble heads, however, could not put a damper on Hisana's favorite season; she simply would not allow it.

It was a bright morning. The gentle hazy rays fell over Seireitei illuminating the city in the softest, flattering light imaginable. Words could not describe how much Hisana enjoyed the early morning and the tranquility it brought. Everything felt slower, not as rushed, and in perfect balance. The cool spring air woke her senses; the warm effulgence of the waking sun gave her peace; and the sweet fragrance of lilac and jasmine invigorated her tired body. It was during those early hours that she could finally find serenity. Having to wake so prematurely to enjoy the quietude daybreak brought was a small price to pay, she mused to herself over a steaming cup of tea.

Seated in perfect seiza, Hisana briefly closed her eyes. For a moment, she let go of everything plaguing her – an ablution of the soul. It  _would have_  been perfect…

…if only she had not been in the company of another.

Remembering that she was  _not_ relaxing in the manor's gardens, she opened her eyes and smiled diffidently into her cup. She was just about to excuse herself for her wandering thoughts, but her apology had been anticipated and quickly countered by her companion.

"It is a beautiful morning." His voice was at once soft and firm – a euphony to her ears.

Hisana's smile widened and her gaze instinctively lifted to the man seated in front of her. It had been awhile since she had last seen him, but he appeared to be the same as ever with his white, white hair, sharp angular features, and an easiness about him despite his ill health. Next to her husband, he was the perfect blossom-viewing companion.

' _Captain Juushiro Ukitake.'_ His name ran through her head the moment her gaze traveled to his visage where it stayed a few moments longer than intended, but the good captain appeared to have his attention and thoughts on matters other than Hisana. The moment he returned her look, however, she lowered her head and stared into her tea.

"Indeed," she answered after a pregnant pause.

The silence that shortly blanketed the pair was neither stifling nor oppressive. No words better left unsaid lingered between the two as they sat basking in the morning rays. While the stillness was mutual, Hisana could not help but feel a pervasive sense of tension pulling at the strings of her awareness. Her husband's prolonged absence was beginning to weigh heavily on her thoughts. She wondered if Ukitake felt similarly.

' _I wonder where he is?'_  Her brows knitted together, and she turned her attention to the blossoming sakura tree to her left.  _'How long has it been? I hope everything is alright…'_

"The preparations for the ceremonial release can be rather tedious," Ukitake observed perceptively.

Hisana smiled knowingly at the captain in response. "Of course. Are you not participating this season?"

Ukitake shook his head. "No. I think my release is more appropriate for the summer festivities."

"Oh. I had almost forgotten about that."

"They try to even the ceremonies out so one does not have to endure all thirteen releases in a single sitting."

Hisana grinned at the thought. "They're so beautiful, though."

"They are the first two-hundred times you see them," his noted wryly.

She giggled into her teacup before taking a sip. "I suppose you do have a point," she said, looking over the top of the cup.

Ukitake's polite smile was soon obscured by the teacup he lifted to his lips. Taking a quaff, he inclined his head and lifted his eyebrows as if he had just remembered something. "How have you been feeling?"

Hisana's features immediately drew into a look of irritation. So loathsome the question had become in her mind that she did not even realize her expression had soured.

Ukitake chuckled. "I apologize. I know how bothersome that question can be when you're ill."

Hisana's eyes widened and a look of mortification passed across her face. Quickly, she placed a hand to her cheek, nervously brushing a stray stand of hair from her forehead. She had not intended to telegraph her thoughts. "Oh, no. It's just… Well." She was at a loss for words. When she hesitantly looked up the captain, she saw him nodding his head in agreement.

"No, no. I know how it can be," he began in a comforting tenor, "The looks and assumptions everyone has…"

Hisana tilted her head to the side, watching him intently as he tried to explain himself more fully to her. "I am feeling -" she began but was soon interrupted.

"Ah, why if it isn't a couple of teetotalers!" The heavy intonations of one Shunsui Kyouraku sounded directly behind Hisana. Startled by the disturbance, she turned to see the man nearing the pair with his Vice Captain, Nanao Ise, trailing close behind him. Captain Kyouraku was bedizened in his usual attire: a standard captain's uniform, a straw hat, a gauche pink haori, and a turquoise hakama-himo. None of it matched; it never did. It seemed against the man's code of honor to stick to a single color or pattern scheme…

Hisana smiled politely at both captain and vice captain before bowing her head. "Good morning," she greeted pleasantly.

Ukitake's reception, however, was a little more severe. His brows lowered and he gave his old friend a discerning one-over. "What brings you and Vice Captain Ise here?" He still managed to sound warm even if he did appear suspect of Shunsui's motives.

Ignoring his friend for the time being, Shunsui wordlessly joined the pair on Byakuya's sitting mat next to Hisana. Nanao stood just out of Hisana's periphery. Instinctively, Hisana glanced back at the Vice Captain. Nanao looked out of place and uneasy but was trying her best to conceal her anxiety, Hisana noted to herself.

With a sweet smile Hisana established eye contact with the Vice Captain. She made some space for Nanao to join them, intimating as much to the Vice Captain. At first, Nanao appeared adverse to the offer, but with a few more obliging looks on Hisana's part, the Vice Captain ensconced between Hisana and Shunsui.

Once comfortable, Shunsui fixed his attention on his old friend. His eyes conveyed a sense of urgency to Ukitake. "Sake?" he offered the two convivially.

Ukitake declined, making a passing gesture at his tea. Hisana smiled politely before shaking her head in response.

"I thought as much," he sighed, eying the tea cups. While taking to his decanter of rice wine, Shunsui digressed, "Where is Vice Captain Shiba on such a lovely day as this one?"

"I gave him the morning off. Why? Is something wrong?" Ukitake questioned, still uncertain of what occasioned his old friend.

Shunsui's usually placid demeanor darkened for an instant as he slyly eyed Hisana. The change in his expression was imperceptible to most but to Ukitake the difference was as drastic as night and day. Something had gone awry to get Shunsui up so early in the morning and to prompt him to disrupt the pair. Indicating that he understood, Ukitake gave a faint nod of his head.

"My lovely, lovely Nanao," Shunsui began in a sing-song cadence, "it seems that I've forgotten my favorite drinking cup. Could you?" He paused to take in the scathing look radiating from his subordinate's eyes. "Please?" he added.

"Yes, sir," Nanao responded icily, moving to stand.

Shunsui was quite certain that it must have taken every fiber in her being  _not_  to roll her eyes up at the request. Now, for the trickier part, he mused. "Oh, why don't you take Lady Kuchiki with you? I mean, of course, if you don't mind, Lady Kuchiki," Hisana suspiciously glanced over at Ukitake who was trying his best to look innocent, and failing miserably. She smiled and bowed her head, betokening that she had a vague understanding of the pair's intentions. "Yes, I suppose a walk would do me some good," she agreed, taking to her feet.

Nanao politely took to Hisana's side, and the two bowed their goodbyes. As the pair moved to depart, Hisana gently threaded her arm through Nanao's. The distance, physically or socially, felt terribly false and unnecessary to Hisana. In her younger years, Hisana would have never dreamed of behaving so boldly, but now with her health in decline, she had less to lose and had become more emboldened.

Noticing how tense Nanao appeared, Hisana tilted her head, closing the space between the two. "Now, where are we really going?" she whispered softly, trying to ease the Vice Captain's nerves.

Realizing Hisana's intentions either consciously or subconsciously, Nanao's body slowly began to relax. "I have no idea, milady." With that admission, Nanao's look of stern consternation melted into one of amusement.

Taking a few more paces forward, Hisana halted for a moment, and turned to look back at the two Captains. "Perhaps on our way we should fetch Vice Captain Shiba?" Hisana noted perceptively.

Both men adjusted themselves to better their view of two women. With a wolfish smile, Shunsui nodded in agreement. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble?"

Hisana gave an incisive smile before continuing along with Nanao.

Leaving the teahouse, both Hisana and Nanao continued along the street in a rather aimless fashion. Neither woman was quite sure who was leading and who was following, but somehow they had made it to the center of the city. Taking in the sights and sounds, Hisana was absorbed in the happenings. The city was in a frenzy as it prepared for the festivities. Vendors were hastily setting up their carts. The spectrum of goods being sold were typical, ranging from shaved ice to an assortment of baubles and gewgaws.

The two women wound their way through the crowds of onlookers and ware-sellers. Reaching a small wooden bridge extending over a river, Hisana slid her arm from Nanao's and bowed politely. "I believe I have taken enough of your time, Vice Captain. Thank you," she said, lowering her head.

"Lady Kuchiki, are you sure?"

Hisana smiled. "I am. You better be going. You still have to find Vice Captain Shiba."

Nanao bowed politely. "Thank you," she said before departing in a flash.

Hisana watched the Vice Captain disappear in a blur, sighing heavily to herself.  _'Whatever am I going to do now?'_ she mused as she made for the bridge.  _'I wonder how much longer it is going to take.'_

Not for a second did she entertain the notion that Byakuya would have trouble locating her now that she had been displaced. He always managed to find her, and she was sure this time would be no different.

Considering the possibilities, Hisana took to the bridge's wooden railing. She rested her arms against the coarse banister, and gazed absently into the river below. The water was inordinately choppy she noted to herself.  _'It must be due to all the activity,_ ' she mused, inclining her gaze to see a few children were playing in the river on a nearby bank. A lugubrious smile thinned her lips as she watched them.

"You're not thinking of drowning yourself, are you?"

Upon hearing  _that_ voice, Hisana felt her blood run cold and her chest tighten.  _'It couldn't be anyone else, could it? With those same words?'_  Granted, she had only been paying half-attention to her surroundings when the voice wafted over her, but…

Feeling her heart swell in anticipation, Hisana turned; her face was lit with a smile and her eyes sparkled.

"Vice Captain Shiba." She nearly choked on the title. She could not believe it. How could she have been so gravely mistaken? A look of disappointment besmirched her face.

' _How could I have? How could he have?'_  The coincidence was just too strange and unsettling for her to fully comprehend.

"Don't look so happy to see me," he teased.

Hisana's gaze lowered to the wooden slats beneath her feet. "I'm sorry, I was just…" she trailed off.

"Waiting for someone?"

She shook her head. "No, not really. I just thought you were someone else." She shook her head and gave a dismissive wave of her hand as if to banish the thought from her head. "Have you run into Vice Captain Ise?" she asked, looking up at him.

He cocked a brow in response. "Why do you ask? You work for the Eighth?"

Hisana smiled widely at the mere suggestion that she was a shinigami. "No," she said, punctuating her reply with a shake of her head. "I was having tea with Captain Ukitake when Captain Shunsui arrived. It seemed to be important."

Kaien studied her intently as she explained herself. Hisana could tell by the look on his face that her presence in the Seireitei confused him.  _'He still has no idea who I am,_ ' she mused to herself. For some reason she found his prodding for indicators as to her purpose endlessly amusing. She also enjoyed communicating with another person sans the pomp and circumstance that came with being a nobleman's wife. Kaien treated her as if she was just another average denizen of Soul Society. At worse, he carried on with her as if she was his subordinate.

"Hm," he hummed, "and  _where_  would the captains be?"

Hisana's cheeks flushed in embarrassment. "Of course! How could I forget?" She gave a nervous chuckle at her gaffe. "They are at the Tearoom. Sitting outside."

He nodded and turned to make haste, but before he disappeared in a blur, he turned to give her an over-the-shoulder stare. "Are you going to attend the ceremony tonight?" he asked.

Hisana quickly bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling. She was not sure whether he was asking out of genuine interest, or if he was still trying to discern her identity. She assumed it was the latter since only shinigami were invited to view the captains ceremonially release their zanpakutōs.

She nodded her head. "Yes."

Kaien narrowed his eyes as he looked her over one last time before departing.

' _If he wants to know then why doesn't he just mention it to his captain?'_  she mused, turning her attention back to the river below. The children were still happily splashing in the breakers. The rushing sound of the waves, however, drowned out much of the ruckus the little ones were making.

Hisana cocked her head to the side, and leaned more of her weight against the wooden railing. Watching them unwittingly brought a lazy smile to her lips. They were clearly noble children, she thought, observing their attire. Even during play, the young nobles donned apparel worth more than the souls in the lower 79 districts could ever aspire to owning. Yet, despite their apparent wealth, their activities and behavior were no different from the children in Rukongai. There were some spaces in life that even class could not tarnish.

The thought of class and boundaries proved to be quite depressing, eliciting a feeling of guilt inside Hisana.  _'I should be in Rukongai,'_  she mused with much adjuration.

Whether she knew or cared to admit, the search for her sister had become so much more to her. Her time spent away from the stuffy Kuchiki estate kept her humble. There was no ivory tower for her. Some might argue that her time spent in the Inuzuri had ruined her irrevocably. She would never be satisfied with what Byakuya or any man could give her; this was partly if not wholly true. Hisana had to fight to get by every day during her tenure spent in the 78th. She had been beaten down by classism, despair, and anger; however, wallowing in her lassitude was not going to save her from the fate she had been dealt. This burning urge to better herself – to right past wrongs - fueled her, drove her, and would ultimately be the end of her.

Searching Rukongai had become her career. Byakuya had his troops, his titles, and his privileges. Hisana had Rukongai and she was not above using all the tools extended to her through her husband to achieve her goals. At first, she had been loath to wield her newfound power; it had felt false and pretentious to do so. But, as her purpose grew to more charitable endeavors her justification for using her status outweighed any pesky reservations she had once harbored. The people and the children that had been cast into Rukongai and were subsequently forgotten about needed assistance, and Hisana needed to assist. If she could not find her sister the least she could do was try to atone for her past transgressions.

She was tenacious, reckless, and emboldened, but her largesse drew more infamy and good will to the Kuchiki name. All of these things made her a polarizing force in Soul Society. To those living in penury the Kuchiki name was received with much laudation; to those living in Seireitei the Kuchiki namesake was blackened out of jealousy and misunderstanding.

She sighed, feeling somewhat at a loss and empty. She glanced over her shoulder to see a string of shinigami and nobles wandering to and fro across the bridge.  _'I need to be doing something, but what?'_

"Not out saving the world today?"

Hisana stiffened at the clarion-like sound of  _his_  voice. Her body ran hot and cold simultaneously, but she refused to turn and acknowledge the pale smiling man. A long time ago Hisana had decided that he hid his real feelings and emotions under that incessant grin. Some men chose to bury their emotions under a look of stoicism, but Gin chose to smile. Perhaps he was making a statement? That wearing a cat-ate-the-canary type of grin was just as ridiculous as constantly appearing stoic and indifferent.

Hisana, however, would take a flat affect over an inappropriate one any day of the week. Feeling him draw close – too close – every muscle in her body tense. His presence was cold and biting – like chilled steel grazing heated flesh.

' _He's hovering…'_  she noted sourly to herself. He only ever hovered when he wanted to make a point. The point of today? To get her attention. He brushed against her. The pull at her robes was slight, almost imperceptible, but it was enough to raise her hackles.

"Good day, Vice Captain Ichimaru," she hissed through clenched teeth, hoping her acknowledgment would turn him out.

"It is, isn't it?" he hummed, leaning closer still.

Gin had only a loose understanding of the concept of  _personal space_.

Hisana did not move. She stood statuesque, bracing more and more of her weight against the bridge's wooden railing. Even her breathing had become shallow until the rise and fall of her chest was barely discernible.

"How is your husband?" he asked, feigning politeness. But his words were too heavy, too sinister in their delivery for the question to be considered innocuous.

Hisana clenched her jaw and held her breath as she thought her answer over. Clearly, Gin  _knew_  something… He never asked a question to which he did not already know the answer; this made speaking with him more a game of chess than a means of enjoyment.

' _He knows I don't know where Lord Byakuya is at this moment. He knows I'll tell him that Byakuya is good and well and then he'll…'_ Uncertainty pulled at her thoughts and churned in her gut.  _That_ was the trick wasn't it? she mused bitterly. She did not know what Gin had in store for her. Perhaps he had already achieved his aim by making her afraid for her husband? She could only hope…

"He is well."

"Really?" Gin responded, exaggerating his Rukongai dialect.

Hisana eyed the man. He stood tall, pallid, angular, thin, and utterly disturbing. She wondered if he was just naturally minatory or if he had to work at it. She figured it was a combination.

"Really," she managed to say evenly.

He retracted from her, giving her more personal space. "Hmm, I hope he'll be back before the ceremony tonight," he mused off-handedly.

She lifted her head defiantly. She would not evince to him that she cared or was interested in the slightest. "He will," she replied firmly.

Gin moved outside of Hisana's line of vision, and shot her a dissatisfied stare. He had anticipated garnering a different reaction. His smile dimmed for a moment as his mind conjured up other machinations. His intentions, however, were interrupted by a very hurried third seat.

"Lady Kuchiki!" a tiny voice called from behind her.

Hisana spun around to see a small breathless boy donning shinigami garb hunched over and panting. "Yes?" she said encouragingly.

"I – I. Pardon my intrusion, Lady Kuchiki and Vice Captain Ichimaru. I am third seat to the Sixth Division, and I was sent to escort you, Lady Kuchiki, there," the boy said in between gasps for air.

Hisana bent slightly at the hip so she could be more level with the shinigami. "No need for a pardon. I'm sure Vice Captain Ichimaru will agree that you caused no interruption. We were just about to be on our way," she said politely. With a consolatory gesture, Hisana moved in the direction of the Sixth Division headquarters.

"Good day, Vice Captain," she said feigning politeness, and bowed. She did not bother to look at the man to see if he reciprocated her action. Instead, she followed the small third seat to HQ.

As the two wound their way through the crowded marketplace, Hisana felt on high alert. Something had gone awry she could not help but think to herself. Unable to contain musings any longer, she turned a probing eye to the boy. "What has happened?" She had attempted to soften the bluntness with which the question was asked to no avail. The third seat glanced up at her obviously stricken by her candor.

"Lady Kuchiki," he stammered, unsure of how to respond. "The captain should be fine if that's what you mean. I was just sent to unite you with one of your attendants," he answered earnestly.

"Where is Lord Kuchiki?" she asked; this time she managed to squash the edginess from her voice with better results.

"He went down to the World of the Living to  _handle_ some things."

Hisana grimaced – not liking the implications of that sentence.  _'That at least explains why his absence has been so prolonged… I wonder…'_ She shook her head, banishing all doubt.  _'But there is always the chance…'_  Worriment began to well in the pit of her stomach at the thought that something terrible could happen to him while he was out in the field.

' _It's just routine… He is perfectly capable…'_  She tried to mollify her growing apprehension.

' _If this is so prosaic then why are you worrying?'_  the more caustic part of her mind interjected. Entertaining the possibilities, she bit down on her bottom lip.

So caught up in her thoughts, Hisana had failed to realize that she had entered the division headquarters. The excited call of one of her servants, however, sent her crashing back to reality.

"Milady!" Ito called once more as he drew to her side.

Hisana greeted him with a forced smile.

"Come, come, we need to get you ready for tonight's ceremony," he began, ushering her toward the door.

She absently nodded her head in concurrence, but before she reached the door she paused and glanced back at the third seat. "If it would not be too troublesome please have Lord Kuchiki send word the moment he returns."

The boy nodded his head. "Yes, Lady Kuchiki."

* * *

 

Hisana sat in seiza in front of a small vanity.  _'Still no word…'_  Her brows furrowed and the corners of her mouth bent in a frown.

"Don't look so sullen, milady," Murasaki chirped from behind her. With light strokes, the handmaiden ran a comb through Hisana's inky tresses. "Lord Kuchiki is a very skilled fighter. He is fine."

Hisana pressed her lips together. She did not doubt her husband's skill but… Something about what Gin said (or did not say) bothered her to no end. She was sure such was his intention, but there was something –  _something_ about what he said or  _how_  he said it that made her think that something was off.

Then there was the ordeal that morning with captains Ukitake and Shunsui.  _'What was that about?'_  Her brows pulled together at the thought.  _'Could it have had anything to do with Byakuya's assignment?'_

"Really, there is no use in worrying yourself to death, Lady Kuchiki. He is probably at the division now as we speak."

Yet, there had been no message indicating his arrival.  _'Maybe they got sidetracked. The Gotei 13 has better things to do than to submit the whims of worried wives. He could have returned and his subordinate could have been out or he could have simply forgotten to send word. You're being absurd…'_ Hisana really did want to believe that she was being overly concerned, but there was a gnawing feeling in her gut that she could not deny. Was it intuition or just neurosis? She could not decide.

"Have you picked out what you'll be wearing, milady?" Murasaki quizzed, trying her level best to occupy her mistress's attention with happier thoughts.

"Yes," she replied in a distant voice. She had not, in fact, even considered what she was going to wear that evening. The mere thought seemed trifling in comparison.

"Which kimono?"

Hisana remained silent, staring absently into her reflection.

"Milady, which kimono are you going to be wearing?" Murasaki repeated, this time making sure to enunciate every syllable in a crisp tone.

Hisana blinked back the deluge of thoughts plaguing her mind. Realizing that Murasaki had asked her a question, she eyed the handmaiden's reflection in the mirror.

"I need to know so I can get an idea about how to style your hair."

' _Kimonos. She asked you about your kimono for the evening,'_  Hisana's inner voice resounded in her head.  _'What kimono am I going to wear?'_  She quickly thought the situation over.  _'Something simple, something subdued…'_

"The silk one with the cherry blossom pattern," she finally responded.

Murasaki nodded her head. "Which one?"

Hisana's eyes widened.  _'I suppose I was a little vague.'_  She never thought she would wish for days when her wardrobe had been more simplified. "The," she was at a loss. She could hardly tell the difference between some of the garments herself.

Murasaki shook her head. "Don't worry, I think I have the right  _one_  in mind," she replied soothingly.

Hisana tucked her chin and indulged in a smile. "Thank you, Murasaki."

The handmaiden chuckled. "No need for thanks."

Unceremoniously, Hisana was helped into the kimono Murasaki had selected for her. It was silk, simple, appropriately subdue for a married woman, and it had a subtle cherry blossom print which was suitable for the occasion. Her hair, however, was another matter entirely. Murasaki had fussed with it for close to an hour before threatening to fetch Kishu.

"That is  _not_  necessary," Hisana was quick to apprise Murasaki. She remembered the  _last time_  Kishu had his way with her hair. Her scalp had hurt for over a week afterward.

"But, milady," Murasaki sighed, attempting to secure an ornate kanzashi in Hisana's hair. Her efforts, however, were entirely in vain. The moment she released her hand the strands came tumbling back down.

Hisana tryingly hid her amusement from the handmaiden's eyes. Perhaps Hisana's most obstinate feature was her hair… "It's quite alright, Murasaki. The ceremony, I am sure, is not terribly formal. Most of those in attendance will be donning their shinigami robes."

Murasaki exhaled a heavy breath. "But," she began but was quickly cut-off.

"It is my wish. Besides, I am late as it is…" Hisana took to her feet, and moved to the door of her chambers. The moment she stepped foot outside of her room she was greeted by a barrage of servants.

"Lady Kuchiki!"

She was fairly sure that it had been Ito who had called her name.

"Lady Kuchiki!" the young male servant repeated, breaking away from the pack of attendants.

Hisana continued down the hall, slowing her cadence enough to allow for Ito to catch up. "The wind has picked up and it is rather cold tonight."

She shot the boy a sidelong glance. Draped over his arm was a light pink over-kimono. She paused just short of the door, and took the silk haori from Ito. Eagerly, he helped her into the raiment. Once she was fitted into the jacket, Ito surveyed her with the discerning eye of someone who admired and respected her. He nodded his head approvingly.

"Come," she murmured, taking his arm for stability.

Ito's eyes widened as he glanced down at her limb pressed against his. He turned to see Kishu standing behind him. The stewarded nodded his head, and with a small gesture of his hand two servants scurried forth to open the door for the two of them.

Ito turned his attention to his mistress the moment he felt her move forward. She looked nervous and drained from what he could tell. Her eyes appeared remote and distant, and her lips were turned down into a halfway frown.

He wanted to say something to ease her worries, but he could not come up with a single phrase. Any possibilities he entertained were rejected as sounding either too fustian or too glib. Instead, he quietly escorted her to the ceremony.

Once the two arrived at the designated area, which was little more than a barricaded training field, they found themselves environed by shinigami and nobles alike. Apparently, viewing the captains' releases in the springtime had become a rite of passage for all the newly placed shinigami who were graduating from the Academy. Needless to say, there were quite a few more souls bustling about the area than Hisana could have fathomed, having only been to the winter ceremony.

Being jostled by the deluge of shinigami, Hisana and Ito separated, each being pulled in different directions. "Lady Kuchiki!" Ito called frantically after her the moment he felt her drifting. He desperately tried to regain contact with her, but it was futile at best to fight the flowing crowd.

Likewise, Hisana attempted to fight against the mob and failed. "Ito!" But, he soon disappeared when another wave of students ambled into the area.

' _It'll be impossible to reunite with him now,'_  she thought hopelessly to herself. As if her day could get much worse. _'Hopefully, all will end well,'_  the eternal optimist inside her head chimed.

Vacillating between feeling sorry for herself and trying to cheer herself up, Hisana's internal maelstrom came crashing to a halt the moment she felt a sharp tug at her sleeve. She glanced over to find Kaien standing but a hairsbreadth from her.

"So you did make it after all," he greeted her nonchalantly; although, she could tell he was examining her attire a little too closely.

"You doubted my words this morning?" she responded, unwittingly being forced closer to the Vice Captain by the crowd.

"A skilled shinigami always plays it close to the vest," he shouted above noise that was steadily enveloping them.

Her lips parted in a smile. "Of course," she murmured, quite sure that he did not hear what she had said.

"Come sit next to me. My companion for tonight was been called away at the very last moment for recon."

Hisana nodded her head. "It seems my escort has been displaced as well," she replied, gazing over her shoulder to see if she could ascertain Ito's whereabouts. To the best of her ability she could not. There were just too many people and faces to sift through; it also did not help that Ito was shorter than average.

"Well, then," Kaien began, taking her hand in his, "so we don't lose each other."

Hisana instinctively glanced down to find her hand being tightly gripped in his. She thought nothing of the instance as she followed closely behind the Vice Captain as he led her through the entrance where a ragtag team of shinigami from the Eleventh Division was in charge of checking for identification. The cue was long and disorderedly with shinigami and nobles clustered around the gate.

Not liking the look of the wait in front of him, Kaien weaved his way through the crowd, pulling Hisana along with him. A muscular intimidating-looking man garbed in the standard black and white shihakushou stood guard at the gate collecting tickets and checking ID. The man instantly recognized Kaien and waved him through. He then turned his gaze to Hisana; recognition lit face the moment examined her. She, however, had no idea who he was. Before she had the chance to flash the man an obliging smile, she had been pulled along by Kaien. "She's with me," he informed the man over his shoulder.

Breaking through the throng, Kaien pulled Hisana toward a small unpopulated hummock overlooking the makeshift stage. The area seemed hauntingly private especially when one considered the pell-mell just outside of the arena.

Trying not to seem painfully inattentive, Hisana stole only a few glances over toward the area's entrance. There was a constant stream of people entering through the two gates, one on either side of the ceremonial grounds. Watching the steady inflow of people, she wondered if Ito had made it in unhampered, and through which gate he had entered…

"Is this your first time?" Kaien asked, glancing down at the program he had managed to snag before getting caught up in the deluge of people swarming the gates.

Hisana reflexively shook her head all while keeping her gaze fixed on the entrances. "No," came her delayed response. "The one last winter," she added distantly, unsure of whether her answer was even comprehendible. "You?" The moment the word sounded from her mouth, Hisana wished she could have taken it back.

' _Of course he has!'_

Hisana turned to him to take in the strange look her question had elicited.

With brows raised and a smug look etched into his features, Kaien nodded his head. "Yeah."

She smiled diffidently. "Of course you have, I don't know why I…" she paused, seeing no need to finish the sentence as she was relatively sure he had already finished it in his head.

"What brings you here?" he asked, glancing back down at the pamphlet he had held unfurled in his lap.

"I came to see a performance," she answered, her gaze drifting to his countenance.

Kaien perked the moment he heard her answer in the singular. " _A performance_?" he echoed. "You mean your captain's, right?"

Hisana answered with an oblique smile. "In a manner of speaking." Or, at least she hoped  _her_ captain showed and was in good repair.

Realizing that Ito was either refused entry or had been consumed by the audience, Hisana turned her sights toward the stage. It was large, dark, and being prepared for the demonstrations. Anticipation swelled in her heart as she sat with her hands nervously fumbling with her robes. No longer able to contain her excitement, she glanced over at Kaien with large probing eyes. "How much longer?" she asked.

He laughed and placed the palm of his hand against the back of his neck. "Don't look so nervous; it's not like they're asking  _you_  to perform a release."

She smiled, knowing that she was being a little too zealous. "I'm sorry; it's just…"

A sudden silence covered the crowd like a blanket. She inclined her head and stared at the stage. Her fingers clenched the silk of her haori against her palm so intensely that she was sure the print would be forever fixed on her hand. The giant lights pointed at the stage had been switched on with a metallic hiss.

Noticing someone standing on the stage, Hisana narrowed her eyes to make out who it was. The strange man dressed plainly in a blue kimono stopped front and center. "Greetings," he began in a loud booming voice.

Transfixed, Hisana leaned forward on her knees. Her lips parted as she waited for him to announce the order of the releases, careful to pay close attention to what he was saying.

Kaien's lips drew up into a crooked grin as he watched her. Her stare had become so intense that it was as if the speaker had hypnotized her or put her under some sort of mind control. Giving a passing glance down at the program, he noticed a hastily scribbled message written in red ink over the order of the demonstrations. "Hey, I didn't realize that this was here before," he muttered to himself. "It seems that there has been a cancellation," he began but his thought was interrupted by the speaker on stage making an announcement.

"We regret to inform all you that Captain Kuchiki will not be giving a demonstration this evening…"

Clearly taken aback, Hisana's right hand shot up to her mouth in an attempt to muffle the gasp climbing up the back of her throat. Her stomach clenched and every muscle in her body tensed. The words,  _'No, this cannot be!'_  kept repeating in her head in a constant loop.

Kaien watched her sudden transformation, uncertain what to make of it. Her once rosy colored cheeks had blanched and her demeanor appeared stricken. He shook his head. "Not you, too," he said offhandedly, thinking that she (like so many of the other females residing in Soul Society) fancied Byakuya for his looks, power, and taciturnity.

Hisana, however, was so caught up in the wave of emotion that had washed over her to notice her companion. _'Should I just leave?'_  she wondered.  _'No, that would not be right,'_  she thought, considering Kaien.  _'What would I do with myself if I did?'_

"He'll be alright," Kaien stated in a low, stern tone.

His voice was so firm that it tore through Hisana's worries, drawing her back to reality. Instinctively, she turned her head to face him. He looked serious as he sat with his head in profile gazing down at the stage.

Her brows knitted together as she examined him. He radiated calmness, and his look of repose relaxed her – quieted her. She believed him – or wanted to believe him at least. "I know," she said. Her gaze trailed to the blades of grass stretching out in front of her.

Any beauty displayed that night was lost on Hisana. She felt detached; her experience of the evening had been muted – as if she had watched the whole thing through a dense fog. She probably would have missed the ending if she had not been alerted by sounds of applause and cheering.

Feeling like she had been awoken from a bad dream, Hisana mindlessly began clapping her hands as if she had been paying attention. Within a few minutes clusters of shinigami began migrating toward the exits. Hisana and Kaien both followed suit behind a gaggle of very gregarious female Academy graduates who were apparently very impressed with the demonstrations.

Once outside the two found a semiprivate clearing to bid their farewells. Hisana smiled politely and bowed before beginning. "Thank you, Vice Captain Shiba, for your -"

"Lady Kuchiki!" a familiar voice interrupted her.

The moment she heard her name being called from nearby, Hisana glanced over her shoulder to see a very familiar face. "Captain Ukitake," she greeted, bowing low the moment he neared. Kaien, however, met his captain with a look of confusion.

"Lady Kuchiki, I'm so glad I managed to find you! I have been meaning to speak with you regarding Captain Kuchiki."

Hisana's eyes widened at the mention of her husband's name. "Yes," she murmured, nodding her head.

"This is a matter better discussed in private," he said, making an indiscriminate wave of his arm.

Her breath instantly caught in her parched throat. "Yes, Captain," she said. Her eyes glazed and a sensation of dissociation overcame her as she trailed behind Ukitake.

"My manners," she rebuked herself for her carelessness. "Vice Captain Shiba," she began, turning to face him.

"Lady Kuchiki," he said stiffly.

His words sounded hollow and discordant to her ears.  _'I'm sorry,'_  she thought solemnly to herself after observing his stoic façade. As they stood only a few meters apart, Hisana was sure she could feel a world of distance separate them the moment he realized who she was. "Thank you," she said. After giving him a low bow, she turned and followed behind Ukitake, who had paused to wait for her.

* * *

 

The news had been bad. Late the night before a group of third year students had gone to the World of the Living to partake in a training session. An hour later the students' signal had been lost – completely wiped off the map. It was as if the signals had been jammed – as if  _someone_  or  _something_ had emitted a field that disrupted any attempts that could feasibly locate the group. The Sixth Division had been assigned the task of locating the students and bringing them back. When the squad of shinigami disappeared, Byakuya and his Vice Captain had been sent down.

" _There has been no word from anyone involved. It was as if they had just disappeared."_  Those were the words Ukitake had used to explain the urgency of the situation to her. She had fought back tears and managed to hold onto what little composure she could muster. But the more he talked in his quiet comforting voice, the more she felt the reigns to her emotions slip from her hands.

She now sat on the couch in Byakuya's darkened division office. She pressed her lips together and clenched the sides of the cushions underneath her. She felt empty, deadened inside. There were no tears. There was no rage. Only emptiness consumed her as she sat quietly in his office.

She had not cried in front of Ukitake. She had merely nodded her head as he explained to her the situation. After he had said his piece, she had thanked him for his time. He had asked her if she needed an escort back to the manor. She had replied in the negative, bowed her goodbye, and left.

Aimlessly, she ambled along the darkened streets of the Seireitei. Along the way she had passed a frantic Ito. He had told her that he would take her back to the estate. She had refused. (Or at least she was relatively sure she had refused his services seeing as he was not with her.)

Somehow, someway she had made it to the Sixth Division. The area was dead. All of the lights had been turned out, and all was silent. There was no one to greet her when she entered the offices, and in a daze she made her way to his office.

It all felt like a very bad dream – one for which there was no escape.

' _He will probably stop here first.'_  It had probably been the first coherent thought she had in over two hours.

' _He will return,'_  she thought, feeling her eyelids droop tiredly.

She wanted so badly to be awake to greet him when he came back. However, with each passing "tick" of the secondhand, she began to drift into a state of unconsciousness. Finding herself unable to stave off her tiredness any longer, Hisana lowered herself down on the couch and fell into a light slumber.

Morning broke only a few hours later, and with it came her husband. He passed into his office, having felt her aura. Seeing her tiny form stretched out on the couch, he smiled to himself and then moved to close the door behind him.

He treaded silently to the front of the couch and examined her. She was curled into a ball with her pink haori tightly pulled over her for warmth. "Hisana," he whispered, "why are you here?" Bending slightly, he brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead.

His caress, even as light as it was, aroused her from her sleep. Tired eyes opened to reveal a look of bleariness. "Captain Kuchiki," she said, slurring the syllables together as she spoke.

The lines of his face softened the moment her voice reached him. He could not recall an instant in their marriage where she had referred to him by that title.  _'She must still be sleeping.'_

A lazy smile parted her lips as she took in his form. "I thought you would come here first, and I wanted to see you."

An imperceptible smile lengthened his lips for if truth had been told he had gone to his estate first to check on her before being apprised that his wife had waited for him all night at his division headquarters.

"I see," he said, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand.

"Am I dreaming?" She lifted her head off the couch for a moment before finding her head too heavy to hold and plopping it back down on the cushions below.

"No."

"Um," she hummed, "prove it."

Never one to pass up a challenge, Byakuya kissed her on the brow.

She closed her eyes in response, enjoying the feel of his warm lips against her skin. "If this is a dream then it is a very sweet one…"

Carefully, he gathered her up in his arms. "Let us go home," he murmured into her hair. She rested her head against his chest, and snaked her arms around his neck in response.


	17. Ambushed!

It finally happened. It was only a matter of time. But, it occurred so quickly - so unexpectedly.

Hisana was cornered - pushed fast against a very large and bumpy tree trunk.

Of all the places she traveled, she had been taken aback that she had been ambushed in the Seireitei! But, there she was, backing into the coarse wood behind her. Any closer and she could have burrowed her way through to the other side.

It came about so randomly… she had been caught off guard. One moment she was taking a calming stroll about the city. Her attention fixed on the beautiful flora of the season, and her mind turned to fanciful musings. Then… BAM! She turned unexpectedly into a wall of four very well-endowed chests.

"Ugh!" she murmured, unsure of what she was looking at. Then, realization hit. And, boy, did it ever hit her – like an anvil. She immediately recognized that she was at breast level with four female shinigami.

"I'm so sorry!" she cried, eyes flitting up for a moment to the faces of the quartet. None of the females looked remotely familiar; although, to be truthful, Hisana had just been swallowed by a wave of panic and her mind was not focusing very well.

There was a blonde, a girl with white hair, and two brunettes she noted, taking a shaky step backwards.

' _Oh my, what have I done now?'_

"Look who it is!" one of the women gushed.

Hearing the sing-song cadence of the woman's voice, Hisana was not so sure of the stranger's intentions. She sounded frightfully bubbly and cheerful…  _frightfully_  being the key word. Once again, Hisana's gaze apprehensively turned to view the foursome's faces. It was the blonde, she mused. It just had to be. She was the one closing in.

Reflexively, Hisana forced a smile and politely bowed her head. "Please, accept my apology. I did not…" Even she had begun to tune out her own babbling once the first pleasantry had escaped her lips. Instead, her thoughts turned to more pertinent matters like how she was going to excuse herself from the gaggle of women closing in on her.

"You're Lady Kuchiki, right? Captain Kuchiki's wife?" the blonde asked.

By that time Hisana had bumped into the large bole of a tree. "Ugh, yes." Her voice wavered, betraying her anxiety. She was not sure if the woman was making an observation or an accusation. Hisana had endured plenty of both in her years, but usually she was not being backed into a corner when it happened….

' _Assailants usually aren't so perky, are they?'_  chimed her inner voice. Hisana's brows furrowed as she thought about it.  _'No,'_  she answered herself, blinking back any lingering hesitation. She lifted her head, and held the blonde's gaze.

"Look you're scaring her!" one of the brunettes muttered caustically. "We'll never get the picture that way!"

"Picture?" Hisana echoed, confused.

The strawberry blonde slyly closed her eyes and grinned. Nervously, she ran a hand through her long wavy hair. "Well… you see…" she began.

Hisana's body relaxed against the tree as she watched the other woman struggle to explain herself. "Yes?" she probed evenly.

"Well, we are from the Shinigami Women's Association!" she informed cheerfully.

Hisana nodded her head, indicating that she was familiar with the organization. "Yes, I see."

Fumbling for the right words, the blonde's voice began to warble. "And… well… we were-"

"We were wondering if you would take a picture of Captain Kuchiki for our picture book," a short stern-looking brunette interrupted from behind the blonde.

Hisana's eyes widened at the woman's forwardness. "Hugh?" she murmured to herself, unsure if what she had just heard was true.

"Yes, that's what we wanted. Sorry, we didn't mean to ambush you or anything. It's just – it's just that it is so hard getting the Captains to cooperate with us…. Well, it's hard getting  _some_  of the Captains to agree to it," the blonde chirped.

"Have you asked Lord Byakuya if it would be alright for you to take his picture?" Hisana asked calmly.

The blonde's eyes widened about an inch at the thought. Slowly, she bent at the hip so she could get a better perspective on Hisana. "Goodness no! Why would we ever do that?" she blurted out as if it was the strangest idea ever put to words.

Hisana's brows fell in response unsure of how to reply.  _'I wonder if I even want to know how these women go about getting their pictures then?'_

The stern-looking brunette stationed behind the blonde rolled her eyes in condemnation of her friend's bawdiness. At least, Hisana assumed they were all  _friends_ …

"What she means is that Captain Kuchiki is rather well-known for his taciturnity, and since it seems rather unlikely that any of us can subdue him for long enough to snap a picture-"

A look of mortification must have crossed Hisana's visage because the brunette was soon cutoff midsentence by the blonde. "Would you take a picture of Captain Kuchiki for us?" she asked kindly before thrusting a clunky black object into Hisana's arms.

Hisana received the strange device with little hesitation; although, she was not quite sure what one exactly did with it. "Wh-what is this  _contraption_?"

"It's a camera," the blonde explained breezily. "See, you put this piece against your eye, and click here, and the picture comes out there," she said, guiding Hisana through the motions of how to properly use a "camera".

Hisana followed the woman's movements with ease, and took a "practice" picture of the foursome. Just as described, Hisana fixed the viewfinder to her right eye, clicked a small button, and with a metallic hiss and a flash of a bulb a glossy rectangle was emitted from the device.

"You have to wait a few moments for the picture to process," the blonde apprised, plucking the picture from the camera and shaking it with a few flicks of her wrist. "See!" she cried out with excitement the moment four bleary forms could be deciphered on the glossy rectangle.

Hisana cocked her head to get a better view of the strange happening. "How odd," she observed.

"It's marvelous isn't it?"

Hisana lifted her brows in approval. "Yes, it's very  _interesting._ "

"Will you then?" the blonde implored, batting her large blue eyes.

Hisana took the photo in her hand. "I don't know," she replied at length, secretly imagining her husband's reaction the moment he saw his likeness plastered on various gewgaws around the city… Sure, he was vainer than he would let on, and Hisana was relatively sure that he would be flattered to know that his looks were enjoyed by the females in Soul Society. But…

' _That would be an awkward conversation…'_  she mused, holding back a self-satisfied grin.

"Please!"

Hisana reluctantly took the camera from the buxom blonde and sighed. "I'll see what I can do…"

"Thank you!" she yelped joyously.

Before Hisana had realized it, she had been enveloped by the blonde's arms and forced against the woman's chest…

"If you do it we'll make you an honorary member! Promise!" the busty blonde announced at the top of her lungs.

' _What have I done?'_

* * *

 

It was late. Night hovered low over the Kuchiki gardens, threatening to, at any moment, flood into the estate. With only the lanterns lining the walkway to the manor to light his way, Byakuya quietly slid the door back and stepped inside his ancestral home.

Silence.

He scanned the corridor. No one was nearby. Servants were not pooling around him. Kishu was not relieving him of his vestments. The manor was unusually dead, he noted to himself as he closed the door behind him.

Not that Byakuya minded the stillness. It was just… an aberration.

Carefully and evenly, he began down the passage to his quarters. With catlike precision, he swiftly crossed the hallway. His feet were light and his spiritual pressure repressed. He wondered how long he could manage to hide his arrival.

It had become a game. Childish? Perhaps, but his pulse quickened nonetheless at the chance to shift through the manner without any of the pomp and circumstance to which he had become accustomed. He was a hairsbreadth from his door when he felt a subtle disturbance is spiritual pressure coming from behind him. Instinctively, he paused; his body relaxed and his head lowered.

"I sent the servants away for the night…" Hisana's voice was equal parts warm, soothing, and  _low_.

Byakuya turned his head to give her a sidelong glance from over his shoulder. "Really. What's the occasion?"

Hisana smiled knowingly. She assumed that if she was going to accomplish her "mission" that she was going to have to appeal to her husband's sense of  _charity_  toward her. "We haven't seen much of each other lately." That much, at least, was true. Hisana's excursions to Rukongai had taken on a life of its own the moment her health improved. And, Byakuya was equally if not more busy than she was. He had a whole division to run, not to mention his duties to his family and noble echelon of Soul Society. When the two met it was normally a random occurrence, and one of the two was either coming or going.

With a coy smile, she gently took his hand in her own and threaded her fingers between his. "Come," she murmured, shooting him a shy look as she led him into his room.

Byakuya absently followed behind her. His thoughts hung low, and his body suddenly felt heavy and unwieldy – like he had been drugged. The burden and gravity of the day's events were easily shed the moment he felt the coolness of her caress against the back of his neck. With a grace unknown even to Hisana, she gently eased his captain's haori from his shoulders.

"How was your day?" she asked in a breathy voice that he had to strain to hear.

"Good," he murmured.

Hisana smiled to herself. She always wanted to ask him how he went about defining "good", because from what she could tell, his body always looked like he took a beating every day of his life. Perhaps his skin was not besmirched by the pale raised lines of scars, or lacerations and contusions, but she could feel the tension he carried in his muscles. Parting him from his black shinigami robes, she loosened his white under-robes and slid her hands under the material. Her soft nimble fingers traveled over his heated skin. She could almost feel the pangs of pain brimming under his stony façade. So well contained, quiet, "taciturn" – she had to admit that her husband concealed many of his burdens.

"I'm sorry," she apologized the moment she carelessly ran her hand over a sore part on his shoulder which elicited a sharp rolling of said shoulder away from her reach.

He shook his head, indicating that the pain was only trivial. Hisana, however, was not so easily convinced. Judging by the level of heat and his intense reaction, she would have bet that he had torn his rotator cuff during training…

She slid her hands down his arms until they met in front of his hakama-himo. With a few well placed tugs, she freed him of his black hakama. "Come," she said, gently leading him to the small mirror and drawer where he normally sat to affix his kenseikan. He kneeled, and she remained standing behind him. Carefully, she removed the prized accessory from its place on his head. So proficient she had become at relieving him of the hairpiece, he hardly felt her fingers as they worked to unclasp the restraint.

Hisana bent to set the hairpiece on the small desk, and in its place she picked up a black comb. With steady hands and an even stroke, she began working the teeth of the comb down his scalp to the ends of his inky tresses. Feeling the dampness of his hair, she smiled. "You went to the spring?"

"Yes."

"You must have been training very hard then."

He glanced up into the mirror to see his wife's placid expression. A faint smile lengthened his lips. The smile probably would have lingered indefinitely had he not glimpsed the camera sitting innocuously on the desk. A sharp pang of dread pelted his heart, awakening his dulled senses.

_It was that time of year again…_

He had already heard horror stories coming from the 13th Division about how the SWA was in full swing to get pictures for their annual photobook and calendar. While he would be loath to admit it, even he tried to make himself a scarce commodity after hearing the stories. The female shinigami had yet to "attack" him, but from what he heard, they took on their "assignments" with a fervent zeal. In true shinigami fashion, they would claw, fight, con, and connive to get what they wanted… They would use whatever tool they could get their hands on…

In a word it was  _miserable_  for some of the male shinigami. (Which is probably what prompted the creation of the Shinigami Men's Association.) It was usually this time of year when Byakuya learned to appreciate just how lucky he was to have so few female subordinates. Perhaps on some unconscious level it was intentional…

' _Would Hisana…?'_  He imperceptibly shook his head at the thought, trying his level best to shove it to the back of his brain.

 _But…_  It was an undeniable fact that his wife was a  _female_ …

Again, he tried to push the very idea away. Paranoia, however, had finally gotten the better part of him when he asked: "Where did you get  _that_?"

Hisana smiled at her husband's perceptiveness. "I just found it lying around today."

It was a lie… sort of….

He turned his attention to her reflection, holding her gaze. "Really?" he asked, incredulous.

Her smile widened and her cheeks tinted a pale pink. "Yes,  _really_. I thought it looked interesting and fey."

It looked like the very camera  _those_  women were known for using, he thought.

"The person in the market said that it could capture your face for posterity."

"I see," he said, feigning ignorance.

She giggled. "I can see you're not too keen on the idea," she mused, discarding the comb on the desk in favor of raking her hands playfully across his scalp.

He averted his gaze in response. Her hands had distracted him, and he no longer could sum up the urge to care about cameras and nefarious women and their equally nefarious machinations. Especially, since he was of the mind to believe his wife was not of the same ilk as the females in the SWA.

Setting her hands on his shoulders, Hisana leaned down and whispered a raspy, "Have you had dinner?" into his ear.

The warmth of her breath and the chill it sent through him made the question sound like some sort of indecent proposition. Byakuya smiled, took her right hand in his own, and kissed her wrist. She smelt of wild flowers and cherry blossoms – just like he remembered.

Hisana tilted her head to the side and smiled.

Somehow, she did not think that she was going to get any photos from him that night… At least, not any photos that she would want to share with the whole of the Seireitei.

The bright hazy rays of morning came pouring into the room. The floating world of nighttime had given way and dissipated on the horizon like a fleeting dream. Soon the cherry blossoms would too scatter on the wind and summer would come, Hisana mused somberly. She had been awake for the better part of the hour, and was now sitting in front of the mirror, combing her hair. Byakuya, oddly enough, was still sleeping on the futon.

Hisana gave her husband an over-the-shoulder glance and smile. It was rare that he slept so late. He must have had one hell of a week, she observed from across the room before turning back to her reflection.

Byakuya, however, had been fighting back the urge to wake, but one could hardly ignore the painfully bright rays of morning for so long. With half-lidded eyes, he glanced up to see his room bathed in bright white. It was late, he noted ruefully before turning over on his stomach. He had overslept, and he was too weary to do much about it. Lifting his arm, he reached across the futon in search of his wife.

' _Nothing_.' He turned his head to the side to confirm his initial impression. His eyes opens opened wider, and his mental fog cleared. He panned the room to find Hisana sitting chastely at the mirror combing her hair. Her white robe was loosely tied around her, allowing it to cling to the natural curves of her small feminine form.

Byakuya watched her hungrily, intently from across the room. The back of her under-robe dipped too far down in the back, allowing him to admire the milky skin peeking out from under the thin fabric. She was…

"You're awake," Hisana noted slyly, assuming she had caught him off guard. She turned confidently to find that he had already drawn to her side, and was fingering the camera that had been sitting beside her.

"Byakuya!" she cried, realizing that he was in the process of snapping a picture. She managed to force a smile right before the bulb flashed and stunned her.

Shaking off the splotches of color speckling her vision, Hisana reached up for control of the camera. "Give me that thing," she said between giggles.

Byakuya obliged, but not before plucking the photo that had been ejected from the camera. Hisana stood, and moved to repay him in kind. He, however, turned obstinately from the lens.

"C'mon," she chuckled.

He glanced up long enough for her to click the button.

"See. It wasn't so bad."

Byakuya turned his attention to the photo he held clenched in his hand. He watched as the image slowly began to come into focus. "There is an old myth regarding cameras," Byakuya began in a soft tenor.

"Really? What is it?"

"According to the myth, taking someone's picture steals a part of his soul."

She inclined her head in response, and then glanced down at the picture balanced between her index and middle fingers. "I like that myth."

Byakuya cocked a brow, questioningly.

"If it's true then I'm glad you're the one who took my picture." Her lips thinned into a perceptive smile.

There was no way she could give the SWA his picture. Not now, at least.

He glanced down at the photograph to see her half-smiling face staring back at him. There was something somber and knowing about her expression even though he had caught her unaware.

It was a good picture.


	18. Stealth?

"Please, give that back to me." Standing, Hisana stirred, moving forward with a staccato gesture. She caught herself mid-reach. "That's not very kind!" her voice edging on the verge of a giggle. Deciding on a better mode of operation, Hisana feigned indifference.

She folded her arms protectively in front of her, and lifted a scrutinizing brow. In front of her Kishu, Murasaki, and Ito were passing around a picture. From where the image was got, she knew not. She had yet to see it for herself. All she knew was that it was an old portrait.

"Look! The Lady had such long flowing hair! Hair that could be styled into marvelous creations!" Kishu sighed in a rare chimerical moment.

Hisana furrowed her brow.  _'I did not even know there was a picture of me from back then… Where was I?'_  She certainly did not remember having her portrait drawn up. There would simply be no reason for it. She was a poor girl from Inuzuri. She was a nobody…

"Look! The artist's rendering is so flattering! Lady Kuchiki looks so young and beautiful!" This time it was Murasaki. All three of the servants were gathered in a small cluster with the picture being held by Kishu in the middle of the circle.

Hisana rolled her eyes, and swallowed back a sigh.  _'Where did it come from?'_

The photo had come early that morning under the guise of a mysterious package that had been delivered rather… well…  _mysteriously_. Murasaki had been informing her of her schedule for the day when Kishu had entered her chambers to deliver the small envelope. The word "CONFIDENTIAL" had been stamped in menacing red letters over the seal of the envelope. Naturally, Hisana had opened the missive in front of the group. Before she had the time to get a good look at the contents, Kishu had snatched the image from her hands and the two began fussing over it. Somehow and some way Ito had been dragged into the mess…

Hisana's brows lowered and her eyes narrowed as she watched the threesome. Muffled wisps of words and furtive looks met her with increasing frequency. Patiently, she stood there, unconsciously tapping her foot. With each passing moment, her fortitude slowly began to erode and crumble as evidenced by the speed with which her foot met the wooden floor and rebounded.

Noticing a flicker of movement in her periphery, Hisana's gaze shot up to just slightly past the trio. A smile thinned her lips once realization hit. She exchanged knowing looks with her husband.

Quietly, Byakuya crept up behind the servants, and casually glanced down at whatever it was that was amusing them and annoying his wife. His expression instantly and perceptibly soured upon evaluation; his sharp features tightened, and the corners of his lips sloped into a frown.

Hisana's heart picked up pace the moment she read his normally indecipherable façade. Feeling caged by her own ignorance, she took a shaky step forward.

Kishu was the first servant to stir, either alerted by Hisana or Byakuya on some subconscious level. "Milord!" he cried the moment he glimpsed his master. His yelp subsequently alarmed both Ito and Murasaki, and the whole group quickly scattered.

All three bowed low. "Lord Kuchiki!" they said reverently in unison.

Byakuya kept his silence, and extended his hand. Kishu's eyes flittered up in time to see his master's gesture. For a few painfully long seconds, he stared up blankly – unsure of what exactly was expected from him – until realization hit him in an icy wave.

"Forgive me!" Shakily, Kishu handed Byakuya the photograph. The servant locked his eyes on the polished floorboards under his feet, making sure to avoid his Lord's piercing gaze.

Byakuya received the portrait with the care ordinarily reserved for fragile, priceless valuables. He brought the picture close to his face; his eyes hungrily roving over the image.

Hisana watched in a cold panic. Her body stiffened until her posture was ramrod straight. She clenched her hands into such tight balls by her side that her nails were digging into the soft pads of her palms. With baited breath she watched him – waiting for any noticeable change in expression. To be truthful, she had no idea what she was so afraid of. What details or truths could a mere photo expose? Were there any revelations in her past that could be announced by a single portrait?

In her head, Hisana took a quick metal inventory of her relatively short and meaningless life. There were many things she kept hidden from him regarding her past. Most of which had long been buried in the recesses of her memory – never to be remembered until times like now…

But, she could not remember standing for an artist… Her mind was working a mile a minute trying to recount her time spent in Inuzuri and then her time spent as a hostess.

Recollection hit her. Hard.

She felt as if the breath had been knocked right out of her lungs.

She felt as if someone had come up from behind her and poured a bucket of ice water over her head.

Her whole body stood paralyzed in a cold fear.  _'There is no way… He wouldn't be able to tell. He's lived in the Seireitei all of his life. They don't have places like that here in the respectable districts. Surely, he's not the type to go looking for that…'_  Paranoia invaded her thoughts, and spread like a wild fire.

Her parched throat began to tighten, and her breathing grew ragged. The room began to spin and tilt. Everything was blurring together in front of her eyes. The room became very bright and hazy, and all she could do was sway back and forth in a futile effort to maintain equilibrium. "Lord," she choked through clenched teeth. "Is there something wrong?"

Byakuya scrutinized the picture, looking quite displeased. He turned it to another angle and examined once more. "Hum… It does not resemble Lady Hisana very well, no?"

Hisana, having held her breath for what felt like an eternity, exhaled a deep gasp of relief. She could hardly believe that was the cause of her husband's dark look!

Bent at the hips and panting to catch her breath, she glanced up to see four sets of eyes staring at her like she had grown an extra head. Feeling her cheeks heat in response, she let out a noncommittal "Hugh?"

Murasaki and Ito both smiled kindly at their Mistress. Kishu, however, grimaced in reply.

"Where did you get this?" Byakuya asked, breaking the awkward silence.

"A man dressed in a queer black uniform, and he wore a scarf over all but his eyes delivered it," Kishu answered.

Byakuya lifted his head. He clearly recognized the description, and nodded to himself. "Really?" he mused softly.

"Who was it?" Hisana inquired – obviously still very much benighted as to what it all meant.

"Probably a member of the Secret Mobil Corps," Murasaki responded matter-of-factly.

Immediately, all attention was fixed on the young handmaiden. The shift in the room was perceptible enough to elicit a small, "What?" from the servant.

Discomfited, Hisana bashfully turned her gaze to her feet. "Why would the Secret Mobil Corps have an interest in me?"

"They wouldn't," Byakuya answered confidently.

Hisana's attention shot up to her husband. His answer had come so cooly, so abruptly. "Then," she began, but unconsciously her lips smacked together. She could not comprehend his meaning.

"I have contacts in the Corps. It was a personal delivery, not a business transaction."

"Yes, Master used to have a post in the Secret Mobil Corps," Kishu noted aloud, as if the memory was too much to keep to himself.

Hisana lifted her brows. Somewhere along the way, her husband had  _conveniently_  forgotten to mention that about himself. She smiled widely at the thought. For some reason, she found the idea of her husband in a squad known for stealth amused her to no ends. It was not that she thought the task beyond his means… it was just…

She laughed. Loudly. She did not know why. Perhaps it was just a curious and poorly time case of the giggles? Maybe.

"What is so amusing?" Byakuya asked. His face was deadpan.

Hisana immediately cupped her mouth, and straightened her posture as if to cover up her moment of reckless laughter. "I... I…"

She had no words. And, when she summoned the composure required to look him squarely in the face, the laughter returned. "I'm so sorry!" she managed between giggles.

Carefully, Kishu leaned in closer to his master and whispered a soft: "Has the Lady gone mad?"

"I have no idea…" Byakuya answered surreptitiously.

Hisana placed the back of her hand firmly against her lips in an attempt at squelching the sounds begging to be released from her mouth. Glancing up at her husband, she could not help but notice that his eyes betrayed that he had taken umbrage.

Pressing her lips tightly together, she inhaled a deep breath and straightened. Every muscle in her body tensed as she attempted to restrain herself from any more uneasy outbursts. "Please, Lord Byakuya, accept my sincerest apologies. I did not mean to -" She paused, quite unsure where she was going with the latter statement.

Byakuya, however, had no reservations when it came to finishing her sentiments. "Insinuate that I was blundering?"

Hisana immediately lowered her gaze, and bit down hard on her bottom lip. "No…" she answered after a pause pregnant with meaning.

Byakuya furrowed his brows, and tightened his jaw. He was not sure what emotion he should have been feeling at that moment. Whatever it was, he was sure that it was not a good one. "Then, what  _did_  you find so amusing?" He was not sure if he could ever recall a time where he had been the subject of laughter before. Well, except for a few occasions with a certain  _she-captain…_

"No – Nothing. I don't know what overcame me just then. Certainly, you don't think I was questioning your skills, milord?" Hisana winced the moment she heard the question sound from her lips. She was not entirely sure that she wanted to hear the answer.

Searchingly, she held his gaze. He looked utterly disconcerted, and slightly hurt that she found him  _incompetent_. Feeling anxiety begin to churn in her stomach, she quickly turned her attention to the servants, hoping to find support. If possible, the servants looked even more astonished than she felt. All three stood ramrod straight, staring in wide-eyed wonder. (Yes, even the stately Kishu wore the unflattering expression of mortification.)

"Servants, you are  _dismissed_ ," Byakuya stated evenly, firmly.

Kishu, Murasaki, and Ito did not need to be told twice. Byakuya had scarcely gotten out the first syllable of his command, and the three were already halfway down the corridor.

Hisana tucked her chin close to her neck, and stared at her husband with wide-eyes as if she was willing him to forgive her. Instead, Byakuya lifted his head. "You do not think I have the skills required to earn a post in stealth squad?"

Hisana pursed her lips as she thought about it. Quietly, she took stock of his furtive efforts during their marriage. She had to admit that he had gotten her on a few occasions. But, thinking of him in a squad associated with espionage and assassinations did not seem to match very well with  _her_  conception of him. And, she wondered if that was a good thing.

She furrowed her brow as she thought the question over.  _'Could he? He is quite skillful. But, he is also…'_  Cognitive dissonance – a static that overcame her thoughts.

Byakuya watched her. Her expression became strict. Her features narrowed into a look of complete concentration. While he could not deny that he felt his ego deflate at the thought that she questioned his faculty, he also knew that she had complete faith in his ability. Perhaps, at times, she was surer of his skill than he was.

A lugubrious smile thinned her lips. "No, I cannot think of you in such a role."

He blinked, perplexed. Such candor…

"My husband is a good man who would not resort to such techniques." Her explanation was firm, and she appeared quite confident in her conclusion.

Byakuya, however, looked stricken. He had been called many things in his life. He had been praised for many attributes. He had been told that he was good at shunpo. He had been told that he was "good" at strategy, military knowledge. Hell, even his calligraphy skills had been praised as being "good". He had never, however, been told that he was a "good" man. And, he was quite sure there were a great number of people who would be glad to argue the point with her.

He just blinked – totally unsure of how to respond.

Hisana smiled sweetly, and bowed her head. "I'm sure you'll convince me otherwise if you are so inclined."

A subtle tilting of the head and tightening of the lips signaled an ill portent for Hisana… He had  _accepted_  the "challenge".

Upon seeing the change in his expression, she almost wished that she could pluck the statement from his memory and shove it back into her throat…

Almost…

From Hisana's perspective, her statement was conceived with a less than noble intention. Her challenge would most certainly divert his thoughts, at least for now, from the odd photograph and strange delivery.

She smiled simply in reply, and bowed her head. "All right," she murmured to herself.

"If it is to be official," Byakuya began quietly from his part of the hall.

Hisana looked up at him; her face painted with an expression that betrayed her as most perplexed. She was unsure if he was still talking about the terms of the contest, or if he was speaking on a radically different subject.

Before she had time to decide, however, he had taken her by the hand and pulled her close. Always one who enjoyed a fair share of ceremony, he leaned down and kissed her firmly on the mouth.

The contest was on… enjoyed the latest chapter.


	19. Words Better Left Unsaid

It was a bitter cloudy night. The wind stung the flesh with the force of a quickly drawn leather whip. The trees bent and swayed to the beat of a chorus of howls.

Pulling herself deep into her haori, Hisana brushed the strands of hair from her eyes. Spring was swirling together in front of her in the dim light afforded to her by the hanging lanterns affixed to the sides of the walkway. She smiled to herself. She felt light against the sting of the winds clawing at her robes, making them billow and dance.

' _It is nice tonight…'_  The observation kept flashing in her thoughts as she settled deeper into herself. Sometimes it was so hard to ignore the outside noise – duties, servants, guilt, time. And, sometimes it was so easy to  _forget_  where she was and who she was. Like water, she felt fluid and infinite; she felt as if she could expand bigger and bigger beyond her means.

At the same time, she wondered if that was a normal feeling.  _'Is it right to feel so filled that you cannot hold it all in?'_

' _It is most likely not proper to feel this way…'_  the more cynical, grounded side of her retorted with a snort. Hisana lowered her gaze in response. It all came crashing down – the euphoria. She could feel the walls of her temporal happiness collapse under the weight of  _reality, duty_. Her flight of whimsy had done a proverbial nosedive.

Turning her gaze skyward, she glimpsed the soft pink sheen that could only be petals.  _'Cherry blossom petals,'_  she noted, reaching a hand out to catch one. When she opened her hand her eyes widened in something of both shock and awe – she had caught one.

With furrowed brow, she studied the velvety petal with great intensity. Her jaws inadvertently tightened, her lips flatlined, and her eyes narrowed. It was so delicate. It was so beautiful. It was imperfect. Closing her eyes for a moment, Hisana extended her arm and relaxed her fingers. The moonlight reflected off her outstretched palm, and the blossom took flight.

' _It feels so early for them to be falling...'_

"It is part of their charm."

Hisana lowered her head in response to her husband's low tone. She had barely caught the intonations of his voice above the susurrus of trees in the background. But, she had felt his presence long before he had ever uttered a syllable. She had been waiting for him to speak…

"I suppose so," she murmured in a voice that was equally low. "They wouldn't be so feted if not for their ephemeral nature, no?" she added, turning to see him standing in the doorway. He looked so stately – so still – standing there in white robes and backlit by the warm light radiating from the estate.

"No," he responded. He took her hand and lightly led her into his quarters.

"You enjoyed the night air?" he asked cryptically.

Hisana was in the middle of shedding her pink haori when the observation came at her from across the room. Not sure whether it was a question or a statement, she just blinked her response, dumbfounded.

He smiled weakly at her expression. Even after the years they shared together, he, at times, still had trouble finding the words.

"Yes. It is refreshing," she said.

He nodded, "Indeed. Would you mind taking a stroll with me? If you are feeling up to it, of course."

She grinned her reply. "Yes."

Byakuya quickly grasped her haori and moved to drape it around her shoulders. "For warmth."

Her smile widened. "For warmth," she echoed sweetly.

It all began in the usual way. After fumbling for a moment for the proper protocol, Byakuya saw to her happiness. He extended an arm, subtly of course, for her use. Hisana nodded obligingly and gladly accepted, looping her arm around his.

The pair circled the garden, and as they did both paid close attention to the dimly lit sakura tree stationed near the pond. It was ostensibly the most beautiful blossoming tree in Seireitei and, perhaps, Soul Society. A bittersweet smile tugged at Hisana's lips the moment the two passed the sakura.

' _I don't know if it is the most beautiful, but I do know that it is the ugliest tree in Soul Society when the blossoms have left it.'_  Unwittingly, she giggled at the paradox.

"Is there something funny?" Byakuya asked, lifting a brow.

She immediately brought a sleeved hand to her lips so she could obscure a toothy grin. "Nothing," she responded in a muffled but airy pitch.

Byakuya was less than convinced. His eyes even veiled by the shadows of nightfall were still piercing and conveyed his skepticism loud and clear to Hisana. Upon receiving his look, she lowered her gaze and removed her hand from her lips. "I was thinking about the paradox of it…" Her meaning was purposely enigmatic. She had trouble admitting that she was taken so thoroughly by a mere tree. He would think her foolish…

The two had come full circle in the garden. Hisana was half expecting her husband to lead her back to the Estate, but much to her surprise he moved toward the gate leading out of the garden. She glanced up to find him staring intently at the stony path in front of him.

"Which paradox?" he asked the moment the two crossed out of the garden.

She lowered her head - overcome by amusement. He had finally called her out. "The cherry blossoms – are they truly valued because of their brevity?"

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder," he answered inattentively.

"Do you think so? I always thought that one's fondness for something was related to the closeness of its proximity."

Byakuya lifted his head, and for a moment his austere countenance broke into an expression of pleasure. The bored "above-it-all" look in his eyes was replaced by a glint, and the contours of his face softened. "I believe you have a point. Another paradox?"

She smiled widely. Instinctively, her hand shot up to conceal her expression only to be stopped by her husband's firm grasp. His large hand ensnared hers, and with gentle ease he lowered it back to her side. No words were exchanged, but the meaning was clear: All pretenses of rigid decorum were to fall by the wayside at the moment.

Once more the couple began their way down the road leading to the more populated portion of Seireitei. Wordlessly, they moved along the path set for them. The moon hung high and full in the sky. The firmament was now clear, allowing the moonlight to radiate down and lighten the sublunary sphere.

Feeling the silence between them thicken, Hisana pulled closer to her husband. "It is unusually cold for this time of year, no?" She wondered if her husband found her ill concocted excuse for closeness as transparent as she did.

Byakuya, however, had not given her sudden nearness a second thought. "Yes."

She elevated her head so she could see his visage. He appeared to be struggling with some thought or another. She could tell that much by his clipped response to her question.  _'I wonder what is worrying him so...'_

"Is there something wrong?" she asked soothingly.

Byakuya turned his head and gazed down at her. There was a heavy weight to the look they shared. "No," he answered after much delay.

She gave a consolatory nod of her head.  _'If you say so…'_ she mused soberly.

' _You should do something. Say something. Call him out!'_  Hisana shook her head at the thought.

' _No, that will never do. Confrontation is not the answer here,'_  the more rational and subdued part of her chimed.

"How was your day?" she began, hoping that she could break the grim quietness that had enveloped them.

"Good."

"What happened, if you don't mind my asking?"

Byakuya gave her a sidelong stare.

She had put a dent in his defenses…

"Nothing remarkable," he murmured. "How was your day?"

"It was nice. I went to Inuzuri today. You should come with me sometime." Hearing her last comment, she stiffened and suppressed an urge to cringe at the coarseness of her invitation.

' _He would never dream of going to Inuzuri. No one in his right mind would!'_  her inner self resounded inside her head.

"Do you mean that?"

Hisana hesitantly looked up at his face to find not a trace of mortification or contempt. He appeared almost interested in her offer. She could scarcely believe it.

' _He must be feeling awfully low to be contemplating this…'_

"Of course. Why would you ask?"

As he stared down at her, she could not help but notice that he did not seem himself. No, he seemed very out of sorts, like he was coming to a harrowing realization. What exactly he was thinking or feeling, she could not tell.

Inhaling a deep breath, Hisana halted mid-step. The instant she felt her husband follow in kind, she embraced him tightly. And, there they stood that late spring night under the swaying sakura. There was not a trace of selfish want in that simple act; there was no underlying sexual tension or unspoken debt to pay for the action. Burdens from days gone by and days to come scattered on some invisible gust. In that moment there was only the most primal of love – that of the familiar.

The pair stood interlocked for what felt like hours with only the dark of nightfall and the promise of privacy to shield them from any onlookers.

' _I hope my sister, wherever she may be, finds this,'_  Hisana thought to herself, succumbing to the warmth of the moment.

Twenty minutes had passed before either of them stirred. "Come." It was Byakuya who broke the silence. "Let us go home."

She lifted her head from his shoulder, and gave a dreamy smile in response. "Okay."

Feeling Hisana pull away, Byakuya took a firm hold of her arm the moment she began to sway. "Are you feeling well?"

She nodded. "I'm just very tired." It was a lie, and as the two exchanged glances, Hisana could feel his suspicion on her. To soothe any worries, she took his arm and offered him a genuine smile. "Thank you," she whispered; her lips brushing against his robes as she spoke.

"Thank you," he murmured softly to himself.


	20. Red, Red, Red

"Do you like it?"

He looked so earnest as he asked the question, intimating that he really did consider her input valuable. It was touching, and on some deeper cerebral level she felt warmed by his interest in her opinion. However, at that moment all Hisana could do was fight to conceal a wolfish urge to smile.

' _Vanity suites him surprisingly well,'_  her inner voice rang inside her head.

Still waiting for his wife's reply, Byakuya stood patiently still. Seconds carried the length of hours from where he was. Unconsciously, a look of vulnerability passed across his face. His eyes narrowed, his lips parted, and his brows fell. It was as if he was willing her to answer his question. What once had been an inquiry made out of bored courtesy had now taken on some stubborn sort of urgency.

Hisana continued to press her lips together, and tilted her head to the side. "It," she stopped herself as soon as she began.

"Yes?" he murmured in a dry, deep tone.

He was slowly growing annoyed. She could see it on his face. His jaws tightened, and his lips pulled into a straight line. "It is," she began once more, and yet again she could not find the words to express her feelings about his attire. Her judgment had been clouded by the situation more than his taste in clothing, and she was having a difficult time discerning what she thought about the kimono.

Absently, she circled Byakuya. Her head still remained tilted to the left as she examined him. The fabric adorning him was a dark blue silk. It was subtle, but one could tell it was finely weaved. There was nothing onerous at all, she noted matter-of-factly to herself. Yet despite this, she could not find anything good to say about it either.

"I don't think I like it," she finally admitted.

"What do you mean by you don't 'think' you like it?"

Hisana could not decipher whether his voice was punctuated with annoyance or curiosity.

"I meant exactly what I said. It is… It does not inspire any sort of feeling in me what so ever."

Byakuya did not look pleased. The lines of his face tightened at the insinuation that his choice for the night was uninspiring. It was the annual student art collection at the Spiritual Arts Academy. It was an informal gathering, and he wanted to look suitable.

"Do you have any suggestions, then?" he murmured – his words carried an electric bite to them as they reached her.

Folding her arms against her chest, Hisana straightened her posture, and studied him a moment longer. "Perhaps…" She drew close against him. Her hands effortlessly slid between the blue kimono and his white nagajuban, and they moved from his chest to the back of his shoulders. The silk eased its way from his back until the material pooled at the crook created by his arm and forearm.

A small wistful smile lengthened Hisana's lips as she parted him from his robe. "Um," she hummed to herself. She stretched as long as she could to reach his kenseikan.

Carefully attuned to his wife's body language, he bent slightly to let her access the headpiece. With soft lissome fingers, she unfastened it before pulling away to look at her work.

A small self-satisfied grin lengthened her lips. "Better."

Byakuya's eyes widened in response. "Impossible. I am in my under-robe."

Hisana furrowed her brows, and pressed her index finger against her lips. She appeared to be in a state of deep contemplation as she considered the possibilities. "It looks better, but it is not perfect."

He lifted a brow. "Naturally."

Her whimsical smile stretched. "I like this much better," she mused, loosening his nagajuban and letting the soft material fall to the floor.

With a searching gaze, Hisana took much pleasure in the reaction she elicited. Her husband looked positively appalled… But, there was something more to his expression, she mused playfully.

"I don't think I've ever seen you blush," she whispered, squelching what little space there had been between the two.

Byakuya lifted his head in response, and inhaled a deep breath. He was willing himself back to a state of repose. "I'm not blushing," he protested firmly.

"Of course," she murmured.

He lowered his head, and gazed upon her with a look of incredulity. The moment he opened his mouth to speak, however, Hisana cut him off with a soft chuckle. He was truly taken aback by his wife's unusually randy behavior.

"You cannot -" he began, but hesitated to complete his thought. He was dumbfounded.

Hisana had taken a step back to study his strong masculine features. "Oh, but I can. You asked for my opinion on the matter. I feel you are at your best when you do away with all your armor."

He lifted a brow, and shot her a look of skepticism.

Meeting his gaze, she tilted her head to the side. "I don't like all of those adornments – the silks, the kenseikan, and the other fineries."

Hisana inclined her head to study her husband's countenance. Gone was any trace of contempt. Now, only perplexity clouded his face. His puzzlement, however, dissipated as he came to slowly realize that they were no longer discussing suitable garments for the event. A lugubrious smile thinned her lips, and she lowered her gaze to the well burnished floorboards.

Staring deep into the wooden panels, she appeared remote - sad, even – from where he was standing. His tongue felt heavy inside his mouth, and his heart drummed a staccato beat. He knew there were words to be said and actions to be done, but he was not quite sure which response was appropriate.

"I just thought you should know that." Hisana returned her attention to him, offering him a comforting nod of her head in return for the trouble and delay he had endured. "I'll go fetch your scarlet kimono. I think it would be more appropriate for the exhibit." With those words, she turned on her heels toward the wardrobe.

Realizing that she was still gripping his kenseikan in her hands, she paused mid-stride. "Lord Byakuya," she began meekly as she extended her arm out to hand him his headpiece, "here is your -"

He leaned forward, but instead of reaching for his kenseikan he wrapped his fingers around her diminutive wrist. Briskly, he pulled her close.

Hisana inclined her head, and stood on her toes to stretch out long enough to grace him with a kiss on the cheek. "You'd look suitable in rags," she whispered teasingly into his ear.

"Join me?" he asked solemnly, feeling her pull away.

She shook her head. "Not tonight. It would be best that I am well rested for tomorrow's closing festivities."

He lifted his head, assuming his usual expression of austerity. "I understand."

' _He doesn't,'_  she mused soberly to herself,  _'but, then again, neither do I.'_

The moment she felt him release her wrist, she bowed politely before moving to fetch his robes for the night. When she returned to him, she carried a deep burgundy kimono and a fresh nagajuban draped over her arm. Wordlessly, she helped him into the garments.

While watching her husband tie his obi, Hisana felt a sudden chill sting up her spine upon realizing that she was still grasping his headpiece. "What about your kenseikan?" she asked, absently fingering the slick and smooth white ivory in her hands.

He glanced down at the headpiece and then back at her. "Not tonight."

A pleasured look colored her face. "Very well."

The two then began out of the room and down the corridor. Once they reached the door, Hisana bowed. "Good night, milord. I hope you enjoy the collection."

He lowered his head in response. "Good night."

Hisana stood in the doorway, and watched him disappear into the velvety blues and blacks of nightfall. She stared deeply into the darkness looming in front of her for what felt like hours. Her mind wandered aimlessly. There were so many things – so many things that needed doing…

When she was certain that her husband was far from her reach, she retreated back into the manor. Sliding the shoji door shut behind her, she shivered. A feeling of pain flooded through her. Bracing herself against the wooden doorframe, she tightly hugged herself.

' _It will go away,'_  the thought kept repeating in her head. But, it did not. The throbbing in her abdomen continued. Tryingly, she tightly closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath.

' _Go away, go away, please…'_

No amount of wishing it away could stop it. It only grew inside her, and with it came a deathly chill. Shaking, she slid down to the floor, crumbling in agony. A loud noise resounded in her head. Like a white static the cacophony drilled through her skull, causing her head to throb. Completely disoriented, she opened her eyes, and glanced down to find a deep pool of red staining the floorboards below her.

Noise. The static intensified as did the fear churning in her stomach. The room spun and tilted around her. The walls felt like they were closing in ready to crush her.  _'I feel…_ ' she wavered, swaying to and fro before collapsing against the hardwood floors. Violently shivering, she pulled herself into a ball.

"Lady Kuchiki?" It was Murasaki's calm voice that came crashing through her disarray. She could hear a door being slammed back and footsteps nearing her. "Lady Kuchiki!" the handmaiden screamed, effectively alerting the rest of the household.

Hisana lifted her head, and with wide eyes she stared ahead. Her gaze was blank - her eyes cold.

"Milady!"

Darkness veiled her vision, and her body went limp.

* * *

 

"Ito, fetch me another cold cloth," Murasaki ordered.

The young servant quickly took to his feet. "Yes, ma'am," he said, making haste out of the room. Stepping into the corridor, he passed a very weathered-looking Kishu.

"How is the Lady?" Kishu asked, trying his best to hide the weary notes of his voice.

"The color has returned to her face," Ito replied without slowing his cadence. He was a man on a mission. If Murasaki needed anything to help Hisana then he was there to assist.

Kishu's gaze followed the boy until Ito disappeared around a corner. The old steward shook his head, and heaved a tired sigh. His eyes stung due to sleep deprivation. His Mistress would be the death of him, that much he was sure.

When he finally crossed into Hisana's quarters, he was greeted by Murasaki's troubled countenance. "Did you manage to reach Lord Kuchiki?"

Kishu gave a defeated shake of his head. "No. It appears he was called away to the World of the Living."

The handmaiden bit down on her lip; her worried gaze trailed back to her mistress. Hisana laid still on the futon. Her skin was as white as the blankets that had been tucked around her small form. Her breathing was quiet and shallow.

Studying his mistress with a discerning stare, Kishu drew closer. "We must keep her stabilized until the Lord returns."

Murasaki nodded. "The physician sent from the Fourth gave her an injection and said that she should recover."

Closing his eyes, Kishu tried to feel for Hisana's signature. He could hardly sense her presence in the room… Opening his eyes, his features drooped into a downcast expression. "I hope he is right…"

Just as the words left him, Hisana stirred on her futon. "Murasaki?" her voice crackled.

"Yes, Lady Kuchiki? Is there anything I can do?" she asked, taking her mistress's hand in her own. Hisana's flesh felt cool to the touch - too cool - Murasaki could not help but notice.

Hisana turned her head to the side; her large blue eyes stared deeply into her handmaiden's face. "Please, do not worry Lord Byakuya over this. I will be fine in the morning…"

"But, milady…"

"Please," she said distantly before returning to her slumber.

Murasaki exchanged sympathetic glances with Kishu. "What do we-"

"Respect her wishes. There is nothing more that can be done now," he answered.

Murasaki gaped at the order. "But…"

Kishu lifted a hand, cutting her off. "If she feels it is best then let it be."

She was less than convinced by Kishu's advice. But, he was higher than her in the scheme of things, and she had relatively little pull. "Very well, then. I will gather the servants involved and inform them of the decision."

Fighting back a look of indignation, Murasaki released Hisana's hand, and moved to exit the room.

Byakuya returned to the manor feeling rather worn. He was drained; he could feel the weariness he carried seep into his very essence. His body felt leaden and stiff. Finding the energy to pull back the door to his Estate, he was almost sure he heard his joints creak.

Crossing over the threshold, he was surprised to find the Estate dark. He was expecting to be swarmed by servants, especially given the message left for him at the office. The note had read: "Urgent. Return to the manor as soon as possible."

Yet, as he moved further inside the house, there was not a trace of urgency in the air. He furrowed his brow, and narrowed his gaze.  _'Odd…'_  he thought, giving a cursory glance down adjacent corridors. It didn't make sense. At all.

Byakuya's gaze fixed on the hallway leading to his wife's room. He was almost positive that he would return home to find her…

Reflexively, he shook his head, banishing the thought.

Slowly, he began toward her quarters. He may have consciously spared the thought, but he could not fight instinct. He instinctively knew something was amiss.

Quietly, he peeled back the door to her room and stepped inside. He panned the area. Hisana was situated on a futon close to the doors leading out to the garden. She was resting peacefully in a sea of white blankets. Stationed to her right, however, was a sitting mat.

Byakuya's gaze sharpened the moment he noticed the mat. There was something wrong. Something  _had_  occurred, but why had he not been greeted by his servants? Kishu at the least?

His body tensed with each step he made in her direction. Before he realized it, he stood within centimeters of the sitting mat. Careful not to make a sound, he kneeled beside his wife, and took her hand in his.

Her skin felt cold and waxy against his. Trying his best to warm her, he placed his other hand on top of hers. "Hisana," he whispered softly to himself.

"Byakuya," she murmured; her voice light and weak.

He gazed down at her, trying his best to conceal his shock that she responded.

Seeing his face, a grin split her lips. "You look surprised."

A ghost of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. "I thought you were sleeping."

"I was, but I felt you nearby. I wanted to see you again."

Her response elicited a dark expression from her husband. "What's wrong?" she asked, opening her tired eyes wider to get a better look at him.

Her words carried a raw finality to them. They had disconcerted him – unnerved him even. He knew she meant nothing by it, but…

"Nothing," he answered evenly.

"You think you are so stealthy, but I felt you from across the hall." She watched him through hooded eyes. A small bittersweet smile attenuated her lips.

He could not tell if she was speaking in earnest or if her mind was clouded by fatigue. Assuming it was the latter he lowered his head, and whispered a soft, "Sleep."

"Stay."


	21. Smoke & Mirrors

How could it end so badly? She doubted that she would ever truly know, but she had a sinking feeling that a hastily made bet with her husband had been the culprit. Perhaps it had not been the  _only_  contributing factor, but it had its part to play in the whole debacle.

She was seated in the garden – on a large grey stone lining the pond to be precise. While she should have been appreciating the last of spring, her attention was directed elsewhere. Between her index and middle fingers was a photograph.

_The photograph._

She had known the moment she had found it sitting on her desk two days ago that it had signaled an ill portent. It was the same photo that Kishu had given her days ago. It was the very picture that had provoked her to challenge her husband to change her opinion of his stealth.

Pressing her lips firmly together, Hisana tucked her chin toward her neck. A deep breath lifted her chest, and with equal measure she exhaled a heavy sigh.

How stupid had she been? Had she  _really_  though baiting him into that particular challenge would spare her the embarrassment of a single photograph?

' _Who was I fooling?'_

It was a good question. One she had been mulling over for the better part of the morning.

' _Did I really think I had nothing left to hide… except what was in that single photograph?'_

Turning her gaze from the photo being dangled from her fingers, Hisana stared ahead. It was a bright day. On all accounts she should have been enjoying the landscape. In her current mood, however, the garden could have been painted in dull shades of grey. There was little pleasure left in her heart.

It had all started off so well, though. Two days ago she had attended the last cherry blossom viewing of the season. The occasion had taken place at the Sixth Division.

Hisana closed her eyes as she recalled it in her mind's eye…

* * *

 

_2 Days Prior_

The day was clear and bright. The blinding rays of light streamed into Hisana's quarters, rousing her from her deep slumber. The perils of the night before still clung to her skin, making her feel leaden and stiff. Weariness and lethargy clothed her more tightly than her own kimono. Her eyelids were swollen, and begged to be shut even in spite of the effulgence radiating from the open doors.

Hisana propped herself up on her forearms, and glimpsed the garden. A tired smile tugged at her lips, "At least it is nice outside. He will be happy."

Listlessly, she threw the thick white covers of her bed back, and sat up. "It's so hot…" she sighed, cupping the side of her head with her hand.

"Funny. I don't feel feverish." Yet, her robes were sticking fast against her skin.

Her brows knit together as she tried to loosen the fabric free from her body.  _'I must look a mess.' S_ he continued to fuss with her garment as she stood and moved to the vanity. However, no amount of pulling or straightening her kimono would suffice.

She bent slightly at the hip to descry her reflection. Indeed, she was a frightful image. Her skin was pasty, and her hair was unbending from sweat. Grimacing at her reflection, she tugged at her robes once more.

' _Forget it.'_ She let out a defeated sigh. She stripped out of the kimono, letting it drop in a puddle on the floor. Before it had enough time to settle, she snatched the garment from the floor, and began toward the closet, folding it along the way.

Humming softly to herself, she slid the door back, and dropped her nightwear into a small basket. With a determined glint in her eye, she scoured her wardrobe for an appropriate ensemble.

Running her finger across the jubans, she murmured a soft, "This one," before plucking a light pink under-kimono from her closet. With a quick flick of her wrist, she unfurled the robe, and examined it with a discerning stare.

" _Um…"_ She tilted her head to the side as her gaze deepened.  _'The Sixth Division is hosting so it has to be perfect…'_

Pulling herself out of the closet with the juban firmly in hand, she was still considering the possibilities. She probably would have continued scrutinizing her choice if she had not caught a slight movement in her peripheral vision.

"Ugh!" she choked. Swirling around to face the figure standing in the doorway, she defensively placed the juban in front of her. It was all she could do to hide what little there was left to the imagination.

Her cheeks were bright red, and her hands were tightly pressed against her chest. "How long have you been standing there?" Despite her considerable shock and embarrassment, her voice remained soft and undemanding.

He did not say a word, and his gaze did not relent.

Hisana smiled chastely at her husband. "That long, huh?"

"Breakfast," he stated in an even tone.

Her shoulders pulled inward out of a vague feeling of submission, and she nodded her head. "In the dining room?" It was a lame attempt at conversation, but she couldn't help it. She had just swallowed a stomach full of panic.

He nodded his head absently in response, but his attention remained fixed on her lithe frame.

Hisana could not tell whether or not the look he was giving her was out of lust or concern. Since she felt no particular spark or crackle of sexual tension in the air she was banking on the latter.

Stiffly, she attempted to let the anxiety fall from her shoulders. Her arms lowered, unintentionally exposing more bare flesh. "I've lost some weight," she said ebulliently, trying her level best to offset the disquiet she was sensing from him. She lifted her brows as if to beg the question: "Do you like it?"

Byakuya averted his attention from her figure to her visage. Their gazes met and held for a brief moment. His expression remained patently impassive. She, on the other hand, managed to tease out a look of quiet ease.

Any tension previously felt melted, and tranquility filled the room. Hisana wanted to say something – to reach out to him. His eyes were so dark and distant. She wondered if he was staring at her or through her. It had been a long time since she had seen that level of remoteness in his face.

As discreetly as she could, she slipped into her juban and hastily wrapped the datejime around her waist. "You seem worried about something," she said, glancing up from her poorly tied sash.

He was gone.

Hisana felt her lips tighten. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. Her mind focused on a single word, 'Distance…' It was always looming at arm's-length, waiting for its chance to separate the two.

' _He knows something wrong,'_  she told herself.  _'It's just his way of detaching himself from it…'_  The thought simultaneously comforted her and chilled her to her quick.

In a perfunctory manner, she dressed herself, and moved to her vanity. Seated in proper seiza, Hisana stared deeply into her reflection. Her large eyes looked haunted, and the lines and pallor of her face revealed a woman with many things on her mind.

Absently, she felt for her ivory comb. She moved her fingertips across the lacquered wood. Her hand halted the instant she felt a familiar slick coolness. There was something amiss, however. The object she found was too thin and wide to be her comb. Glancing downward, Hisana confirmed her suspicions.

It was that odious picture that had been delivered to her days prior. But, how did it find its way onto her desk? Surely, she had not set it down so randomly. Had she?

Balancing the photograph between her index and middle fingers, she studied it. She was much younger, having only arrived at Rukongai a few years beforehand. Her hair was longer, and her features less besmirched by time. But, she still had that same weathered look in her eyes.

Lightly, she traced the contours of the photo with her thumb. She was lightyears away from her former self…

At the very least, her circumstances were vastly different…

Hisana was in the process of placing the photograph in a drawer when she was alerted to the presence of another. A light knocking at her door silenced the chorus of thoughts rushing through her head. Hisana turned to find Murasaki seated demurely behind the threshold. Hisana offered her a small smile, and jerked her chin to indicate that entry was desired.

Murasaki bowed her head before standing. "Lord Kuchiki insisted that you make it to breakfast. He seemed concerned for your sake," she said as she closed the door behind her.

Hisana tightened her jaw, and mustered a sympathetic expression. "Of course."

Murasaki took up beside her mistress, plucking the comb from the vanity. Gently, she eased the ivory teeth through strands of inky tresses. "Milady has such lovely hair."

Hisana shot her handmaiden a knowing sidelong stare. Her hair no longer shone with the brilliance of her former self. The light no longer caught and danced in her dark locks. Illness, a steady diet of medicine and little else tended to have that effect.

Growing bored with sitting and avoiding, Hisana gave a firm, "That's enough, Murasaki."

"Yes, milady. May I help you dress?"

Hisana considered the question for a moment before taking to her feet. "Did Lord Kuchiki make any suggestions?"

Murasaki bristled upon hearing her mistress refer to the master of the house in the formal. She stared blankly at Hisana before comprehending the question that had been asked. "Yes, Milady. Milord did make a suggestion."

Hisana moved to the closet. "Then, we must heed it."

The kimono was a dark shade of blue with a subdued flower print adorning the hem. The obi was a soft shade of gold. With Murasaki's assistance, Hisana smoothed any wrinkles from her robes.

"See," Murasaki said, gently nudging Hisana to the vanity mirror.

Hisana gave a cursory look before turning her attention to the door. "Thank you, Murasaki."

Anticipating her mistress's wishes, the handmaiden drew the door back. "It was nothing, Milady," she said, bowing low as Hisana passed her.

When Hisana reached the dining room, she was greeted by Ito and little else.

"Lord Kuchiki," he began, but was quickly cut off by a wave of Hisana's hand.

"There is no need," she said kindly, feigning a smile.

"There is fresh fruit here for you, Milady. I know you like -"

Ignoring Ito's efforts, she moved to her place at the table. She stood behind the chair and gaze down at how well prepared it had been. A small paper container was stationed near her bowl of rice. Hisana removed the container and with a single gulp swallowed the pills found therein. She followed the medicine down with a few sips of tea before replacing the cup.

"Lady Hisana, please eat," Ito pleaded in the politest tone possible.

A small genuine smile curved Hisana's lips the moment she turned to address him. She wanted to tell him that she was well and fine. She wanted to tell him that she could manage herself. But the instant she met his gaze, all those excuses turned to dust. Instead, she lowered her head; a forlorn expression darkened her face.

"Thank you for your concern, Ito." Those were the only words she could reach for that did not disappear.

Ito bowed his head respectfully. "If there is anything I can get for you, Milady…"

Hisana passed out of the room, and was just about to turn down the corridor leading to the garden when she instinctively paused.

"You are not going to eat today?"

Raising her head, she looked askance behind her. Her features assumed a stoic expression the moment she glimpsed her husband. He stood squarely a few meters from her. His face exposed not a single trace of emotion, nor did his voice for that matter.

"I was not hungry," she responded, attempting to reciprocate his coldness.

Given his sudden quietness, she assumed that it worked. Maybe too well.

Bothered by the oppressive tension building around her, she turned to view her husband more fully. "Is there anything else, Milord?" Her voice and features softened with the question.

He took obvious umbrage at her use of the word "milord."

And, the emotional – psychological – distance between them lengthened with each passing moment.

"If that is all." Hisana bowed slightly, before turning back to her planned destination.

Byakuya watched her disappear into the garden before retracting back into his chambers. He felt conflicted, or at least that was what he called the torrent hammering inside of him. He was never too sure of himself when it came to the realm of the senses. Sure, he could intuit what his opponents were thinking. But that was different. That had some sort of rhyme and reason to it – self-preservation, pride, the need to end the match victoriously. There were only three possible outcomes: win, lose, or draw. It was at once simple and chaotic.

Emotions, however, were different. They signaled weakness. People who were overtly emotional did not rely on their intellect. They did not think things through. They were erratic, and hard to understand.

He had been  _emotional_  in his younger years. He had been weak, hotheaded, and impulsive, and he had been exploited on the battlefield because of it.

He had been hurt by his emotions as well...

Tiredly, Byakuya took to his desk. In front of him were stacks of papers – financial statements, reports, dossiers – all of which needed his time and energy. He should have been giving them ample consideration, but as he situated himself on the sitting mat, he could not focus on work. His attention was directed elsewhere.

The doors leading to the garden had been pulled open, and quietly he sat looking at the scenery. Hisana was sitting with her back to him. A pale pink haori was tightly drawn over her. It was the same haori had given her so many years ago. The color and pattern had faded over time due to much use. It was her favorite…

Byakuya averted his attention to the papers. He even dipped his brush in ink and poised his hand over one form, fully prepared to sign it. But, his mind drifted back to the garden. There was a quietness inside him as he watched her. No thoughts, no worries, just serenity.

It was going to end… badly…

No amount of brute force, skill, money, or kidou was going to stop it. It was not going to stop. There was nothing he or anyone else could do. He was going to outlive another…

Mindlessly, his eyes turned to Senbonzakura. The sheathed blade rested on a cherry wood sword stand that was situated across the room. Even his zanpakutō, a reflection of his own soul, represented something that was prone to lasting only a brief while…

His lips curved into a frown at the thought; he turned his attention back to the garden. A worried look blackened his face as he watched her. What could be done? In all rationality, shouldn't one just cut his losses before it got messy… _emotional_? If this was a battle he knew he was going to lose what would he do? Would he stand there and accept defeat? Or, would he retreat?

His jawline tightened as he pondered his situation over in battle terms. He had been in dire straits before on the battlefield. There were a few times that even he was amazed that he survived. (Not that he would admit it to anyone else.) Had he been afraid then? Had he feared  _death_?

No. The thought of retreat had never crossed his mind during  _those_  fights. But, this was different. Wasn't it?

So immersed in his own musings, he did not hear Kishu rapping at his door. He did not stir when, after a few moments of silence, Kishu pulled the door back. He remained still and fixated. He did not indicate that he was even aware of his steward's presence.

"Lord Kuchiki," Kishu began in a low tenor.

"Yes?" Byakuya responded, turning slightly to acknowledge the man.

"You have been sitting there just staring for the better part of 10 minutes."

"It is a beautiful day," he responded in a crisp voice.

Kishu bowed his head, deciding not to pursue to matter further. "Yes, sir. Your tea." He stepped into the room and placed his master's cup beside him on the desk. "Is there anything else?"

"You are dismissed."

Kishu bowed lowly before scurrying out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him as he did. He quickened his pace as he went down the hall. He had an exact destination in mind.

"Murasaki!" he called, pausing at the laundry.

"Yes, sir," she answered, poking her head out from a room she was cleaning at the time. "Is there something you need?"

He made an indiscriminate gesture with his arm. "Come here! Do you  _need_  to be told twice?"

Murasaki straightened her posture and resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the old servant. "I didn't realize there was a first time…" she griped under her breath.

"Aki," he said, alerting the young laundry attendant.

"Yes?" she asked politely.

"What is it?" Murasaki asked the moment she reached the steward.

"Murasaki, I want you to take Lord Kuchiki's division haori when Aki is finished with it, and give it to the Lady."

"Oh, I'm already done pressing his haori, sir," Aki informed. She immediately reached for the garment, and showed it to the pair.

"Why am I giving Lord's haori to the Lady? Won't he need it today?" Murasaki asked.

"Precisely."

Vexed, Murasaki furrowed her brow. "Then, what is the purpose of me giving it to Lady Kuchiki? She'll think me mad!"

Kishu cocked a brow. "What ever happened to the days when subordinates just obeyed their superiors – no questions asked?"

Murasaki tore the haori from Aki, making sure to stare Kishu in the eye as she did so. "Fine. I'll figure something out."

Crossly, she moved through the corridor. Her head was bowed, and her eyes focused on the middle distance as she tried to figure out a  _convincing_  way to hand the captain's haori to Hisana. She was coming up with surprisingly little. Her thoughts raced. The possibilities were endless - endlessly bad, that is.

"Murasaki?"

The voice stopped her dead. Her body stretched in posture until she stood ramrod straight. Her body ran cold – so cold she was convinced that her blood had been replaced with ice water. She choked on her spit the moment she opened her mouth to speak. "Yes, Milady?" she rasped.

"Where are you going with the Captain's haori? Is something wrong?"

Murasaki could almost feel her mistress's gaze heat her back. Instinctively, she glanced down at the white fabric being clenched in her hands.  _'No, there is nothing wrong. But, I could fix that…'_  She considered the possibility of making a small tear in material. She knew Hisana could sew well enough. It would be a perfect excuse… but it would be  _wrong_. It would be wrong to tarnish her Lord's garment.

"Um," she began, hoping that by the time the "mmm" sound stopped that she would have an answer. "I was told it was torn. I was going to sew it up for the Lord, but I can't seem to find the place where the tear is."

Hisana took a few steps closer. "If you don't mind, may I look at it?" She extended her hand, palm up.

"Of course." Murasaki nearly gagged on her tongue. Stiffly, she turned and proffered the haori.

Hisana took it with loving care. She held the fabric closer to her face, and examined it with a discerning eye. "Ah, there is a small one at the sleeve."

Murasaki blinked back her shock.  _'I must have torn it when I ripped it away from Aki. Thank goodness!'_  She would have ordinarily been mortified, but given the situation she felt warmed by relief.

"I can repair it."

"If the Lady wishes." Murasaki bowed deeply, and parted company with her mistress.

Hisana watched the servant speed down the hallway.  _'How odd,'_  she noted to herself.

The damage done to the haori was easy enough to mend. It was the other part… entering her husband's chambers that felt more complicated. Hisana stared into the white fabric of the sleeve. Her fingers found some comfort stroking the material. Idly, she bent the collar of the haori back to expose the indigo underside. She had not even noticed it before now. She knew the division's flower was the camellia. Naturally, she assumed that any color associated with the Sixth was red – especially given the nature of Byakuya's zanpakutō.

Glancing down, she compared her blue kimono to the blue of his haori. His was a touch darker.  _'Pink and blue... I wonder if it was intentional?'_ she wondered, considering her attire of a pale pink juban and blue kimono (on her husband's recommendation).

Before she realized it, she was moving toward the door. Finding her resolve, Hisana draped the haori over her arm. _'It's no use dallying. He will need it.'_

Noiselessly, she sauntered down the corridor toward her husband's quarters. Once she reached the door to his room, she kneeled, and gave a light knock.

"Yes?"

She slid the door back in the appropriate manner. Her head was bowed, and her eyes were glued to the grain of the wooden floorboards. Feeling the door click into place, she raised her head to find her husband sitting with his back to her. She could tell he was trying to affix his headpiece, but he appeared to be having trouble. His hand was still gripping part of the kenseikan.

"Your haori." She extended her arm, revealing the robe.

He gave her a sidelong glance in response.

She could not mistake the perplexed look etched into his features. "I mended it for you."

"Is that not what the servants are for?"

A smiled ghosted across her face. "I did not mind."

He placed his headpiece down, and motioned to move toward the door. Hisana, however, had read his intentions well and had been the first to stand.

"If you do not mind?" she asked before crossing the threshold.

Byakuya settled back into place. He watched her for a moment before giving an almost indiscernible shake of his head.

Hisana slid into the room, and shut the door behind her as she entered. When she turned back around she found her husband sitting with his back to her.  _'I suppose he assumes I will lay the haori down and leave…'_ She smiled to herself.

Indeed, Byakuya had assumed that she would place the haori down and leave. He tried to focus his attention on the kenseikan, but his fingers felt heavy, unwieldy even. The feeling was further exacerbated when he felt his wife's cool touch graze his hand.

Tenderly, she eased the comb out of his grasp. Within moments, he felt the teeth of the comb rake across his scalp and down his back. His whole body tightened the instant he felt his wife draw inescapably close.

"Is this not a matter for the servants as well?" she whispered.

It was no use trying to out-stubborn Byakuya – a conclusion that she, after five years of marriage, had just now arrived. He may have been a Captain in terms of military ranking, but she was pretty sure that he was a High Commander of stubborn. Even if he knew he was wrong, he would never admit it. He may redress any ills committed on his part, but he would never concede a point.

' _Maybe he's not as much stubborn as he is prideful… Although, aren't both intertwined?'_  A coy smile curved the corners of her mouth upward at the thought.

"What happened last night?" he asked; his voice as even as it was stern.

Hisana's eyes widened. She could hardly believe that the staff had not informed him…

"I was not feeling well."

He eyed her reflection in the mirror. "I see," he said.

"I am sorry for not telling you sooner. I just did not want to distress you."

Byakuya averted his eyes to his sitting mat. His fears were justified…

"Perhaps I will fetch Kishu to finish," she began nervously. Before she had the chance to complete her statement, she felt the warmth of her husband's fingers wrapped against her wrist. Hisana lowered her head, and settled back into place; her hands occupying themselves with his hair.

A stillness blanketed the room as she prepared to set the kenseikan on his head. Her fingers felt light and nimble moving across his scalp. At times her touch would linger too long, or she would snag a few tresses when she was adjusting the headpiece. Prickles of pain rippled from his scalp to his spine, at one instance. Reflexively, he bristled.

 _Pain_.  _Pleasure_. They shared a common thread in his life, didn't they?

Realizing her husband's discomfort, she quickly teased the strands away from the offending kenseikan. "Forgive me," she whispered; her breath warm against his ear.

Absently, he shook his head, and inadvertently he sent the white headpiece crashing to the ground. His eyes widened the moment he heard the skittering sound his hair ornament made as it hit the floor.

Horror-stricken, Hisana gasped. It had dispersed into at least twenty shards across the hardwood. "Oh, my!" She exhaled a deep breath. "I'll," she began, scrambling to get to her feet.

He stayed her. "No. I'll have a servant clean it. You'll cut yourself."

"I'm sorry," she began, "I couldn't stop it in ti-"

"No. It's not the first time the kenseikan has broken, and I doubt it will be the last."

Byakuya stood, and leaned down to help his wife up. "I," she started, but just as quickly shut her lips.

"They say bad things happen in three," Byakuya murmured, taking her hand and carefully leading her out of the field of shards.

Hisana inclined her head as she considered the maxim.  _'The prevarication, the sleeve, and now the kenseikan – I hope that was the worst of it.'_

* * *

 

They arrived to the last viewing in the prescribed way. Hisana trailed ten paces behind her husband as protocol dictated. As artificial as it may have felt, she had internalized the social niceties and moors of her peers with ease. Surprising ease - that is - considering her origins…

' _It's beautiful.'_  In wide-eyed wonder, Hisana panned the area designated for the closing festivities. It was decorated so wonderfully, she could not help but swell with happiness…

' _Magic… it feels magical.'_

It did not matter to her that more blossom petals blanketed the ground than the tree branches. She did not notice that flowers which normally bloomed during late spring or early summer had already begun to sprout and flourish. The division could have been decorated with used sake bottles and she would have thought it avant-garde.

The division, however, had not been decorated with empty decanters. Byakuya and his Vice Captain had seen to it that the funds afforded to them were spent appropriately.

An expression of stupefaction lifted the lines of her face as she took in the sights and smells. Women and men donning shinigami garb milled about; they were talking, laughing, and seemingly enjoying themselves.

Feeling the heat of another's eyes on her, she turned her head. ' _Lord Byakuya…_ ' She caught him giving her a sidelong stare. To most the look was inconsequential, indiscernible, but she understood it well.

She radiated a perceptive smile. To make sure her approval was seen, she nodded her head slightly. He reflexively averted his gaze, acknowledging his Vice Captain in the process.

Her smile only widened. Nothing could break her good mood. At least, she thought nothing could break the spell until she glimpsed Kaien Shiba. They briefly exchanged glances… she thought. It was quick look if it had indeed been a look at all. He had diverted his attention to a very lovely female shinigami.

Her top teeth scraped harshly across her bottom lip as she tried to resist the urge to cringe. ' _This has a potential for awkwardness, considering the last time we met…'_

' _Maybe you can avoid him. He probably does not want to humor a Kuchiki, anyway. And, it's not exactly like there is a scarcity of people here to convince that Lord Byakuya is not merely going through a "slumming-it" stage. Right?'_ The more optimistic part of her brain kicked on.

' _You're just rationalizing the situation again…'_

"Drink?"

Unthinkingly, she took the proffered beverage, downed the sake with a single gulp, and handed the empty cup back to the seemingly disembodied hand. Seconds later her brain registered what had just happened…

"Well, I think she soundly answered that question."

Hisana slunk down upon realizing who had offered her the alcohol.

After a few moments of silent mortification, she found her nerve again. With a smile plastered on her face, she turned to address the Captain of the Eighth. "Thank you," she said. She gave a convincing bow, managing to hide the torrent of discomfiture hammering her stomach.

It took a little more effort on her part, however, to actually look the Captain in the face. Judging by his expression, it was clear the offer had been made in jest. Shunsui Kyouraku appeared amused – too amused for his own good and her liking.

He chuckled. "Well, the truth finally surfaces on how you do manage."

She could have dug a hole, crawled in it, and died… Since that option was not readily available to her, she merely inhaled a deep breath, and lowered her head. "I'll take that as a complement, Captain Kyouraku."

Hisana swiftly turned on her heels and moved ahead. It did not matter the direction as long as she extricated herself from  _that_  situation. With any luck she would run into (or in her case over) a friendly face. And indeed, she did manage to catch sight of Mihane Shirogane, the daughter of Byakuya's Vice Captain and shinigami. The young woman received Hisana warmly.

"It is lovely, no?"

Hisana nodded. "It is."

"One almost forgets that there are no cherry blossoms on the trees."

The two women did their best to hide their giggles. "This is true," Hisana noted, looking onto the swarm of people surrounding them.

It did not take long for her to locate her husband. He was still standing near his Vice Captain. The two of them were talking amongst their subordinates and other shinigami. Well, Byakuya was listening more than talking, she mused.

' _He almost looks amiable… Almost.'_

Following her companion's gaze, Mihane smiled before politely remarking, "He is a very kind man isn't he?"

Hisana's eyes widened once she realized the question was directed at  _her_ … "Lord Byakuya?" Her voice wavered, as if she was not completely sure of the topic being discussed.

"Yes, Captain Kuchiki. You look shocked."

"Oh, no, it's just," she was at a loss. She could not find the right words to describe herself. "It's just that he hides it well."

Mihane chastely covered her mouth as she laughed. "I can see how one might get the idea that he is severe and cold, but he's really very nice. I know this."

Hisana cocked her head, betokening her interest in the matter.

Mihane leaned further closer to her companion, narrowing the space between the pair. "There was a period when business wasn't going so well at our family shop. Then, one day my father receives a very handsome gift, but it was anonymous. He swears it was Captain Kuchiki's doing," she whispered.

Hisana smiled kindly at the woman. "That is a very good story."

"It's true!" Mihane punctuated her statement with a lift of the brow.

Hisana's smile lengthened. Thinking the possibility over, her gaze drifted back to her husband. He was speaking with Captain Aizen from what she could tell. Unknowingly her expression soured the moment she saw the latter.

Where there was Aizen there was…

"Oh, Lady Kuchiki, have you met Miyako?" Mihane's voice came crashing through her thoughts.

Trying her best to appear attentive, Hisana shook her head. "I'm afraid that I don't know many of the shinigami." She was better acquainted with the nobility of Soul Society, and most of them she would rather forget…

"Come. Let me introduce the two of you."

Hisana mindlessly followed along.

"She and Vice Captain Shiba are almost inseparable."

Instantly, Hisana put on the proverbial breaks.

It was too late, Mihane was already introducing the two.

"This is Lady Kuchiki, Captain Kuchiki's wife."

Searching for Kaien, Hisana gave a hasty bow. "My pleasure," she said stiffly.

From what she could tell, Kaien was nowhere to be found.  _'It's only a matter of time,'_  she repeated to herself.  _'A way out…'_

"I am very pleased to meet you, Lady Kuchiki. The Sixth Division did a splendid job."

Hisana nodded distractedly. "Yes, lovely," she said, her cadence unintentionally clipped. Spotting an opening in the crowd, she forced a smile. "I need to check on my husband." She bowed her head, and stepped back to turn only to feel an unfamiliar hardness against her shoulders.

Horror quickly washed over her the moment she realized her mistake. Hisana was positively stricken.

"Is that how  _nobility_  these days excuse themselves?"

As if she needed further confirmation to the identity of the person looming behind her; there it was.

"Vice Captain Shiba," Miyako began, attempting to diffuse any tension between him and Hisana.

Closing her eyes and reaching for a state of calm, Hisana inhaled a deep breath and turned to address the man. Her eyes opened, and she gave a deep bow. "Vice Captain Shiba is in the right." She turned her attention back to Miyako and Mihane. "Forgive me if I came across brusque. It was not my intention."

' _Can this day get much worse?_ ' she wondered before straightening her posture.

"There is no need for an apology," Miyako insisted.

Hisana lowered her head and turned to briefly acknowledge Kaien. From what she could tell, he did not look moved by her appeal.

"If you would please excuse my absence and manners, Vice Captain Shiba…" She bowed her head once more before departing.

It was no easy task navigating the deluge of shinigami. It was easier to get lost in the crowd. Regaining an air of tranquility, she shifted through the mass of souls who had gathered for the last viewing of the season. With a gentle ease about her, she mingled. Many knew of her; many had heard the rumors; but most did not recognize her. Not by sight alone, at least. It was easier, she supposed. She could converse more genuinely without being tainted by expectation.

Glimpsing what she fancied to be her husband, she weaved past a crowd of newly minted shinigami. A trace of a smile tugged at her lips in anticipation.

"Why, if it isn't Soul Society's own Hachikazuki."

Hisana's stomach did a flop. Her jaws tightened. A black cloud passed over her features.  _'Gin Ichimaru…'_  To her, his voice reminded her of the sound sharp chalk made against an old, cracked chalkboard.

"…and Saisho…" Gin added belatedly.

Hisana's eyes snapped open and widened the moment she saw her husband standing in front of her.  _'Thank goodness,'_ she thought with much relief.

"I fail to comprehend the similarity," Byakuya stated drily.

She took to her husband's side before turning to address Ichimaru.  _'Still smiling… Still disturbing... Sunrise, sunset,'_ she thought grimly to herself.

"Um, perhaps you have a point, Captain…" For a brief moment, his smile shortened as if he was contemplating the analogy deeply. "Didn't they live happily ever after?"

Hisana's left eye twitched at the insinuation. The pause he took was contrived; he meant to connect the two sentences, she fumed. She immediately glanced up at her husband. If Byakuya took offense at Ichimaru's suggestion, he did not express it outwardly.

She locked her jaw down into a smile, and gave a shallow bow. "It is wonderful you decided to attend."

Mockingly, Gin reciprocated her action. "Good day, Lord and Lady Kuchiki," he said, moving past the two.

Hisana remained bent at the waist, willing his leave.

"Are you feeling well?" Byakuya asked, finding her posture curious.

Feeling the cool of Gin's wake waft across her skin, she straightened back into proper standing position. "Well," she said with a nod of her head. She could feel the burn of Byakuya's gaze on her face.

"It won't be much longer," he assured her in a soft tenor.

* * *

 

Tiredly, Hisana crossed the threshold to the manor. "Not a moment too soon," she muttered under her breath. Byakuya followed close behind her.

It was late. The sky was dark, and she swore she could hear a cricket orchestra sounding from around the estate.

"How was it?" Kishu asked, already separating Byakuya from his haori.

A faint grin thinned her lips. "No one wanted to leave."

"That is good," Kishu remarked, looking at her from over his shoulder.

"We will take dinner in my quarters," Byakuya said firmly.

Kishu nodded. "Very good." He gave a hasty bow before parting company.

"We?" Hisana echoed, casting a tired albeit interested gaze her husband's way.

"We," he affirmed.

Her eyelids felt like little weights begging to be closed. "That's nice."

"You look tired," he observed flatly.

"I feel tired."

"Maybe this will help wake you up," he said, pulling out a gardenia from a pocket in his robes.

She took the gift, and placed it fast below her nose. "Goodness, they are blooming already?" She inhaled a deep breath. Most of the flower's perfume had faded, but her husband's fragrance clung fast. It was delightful, but not terribly arousing.

"Thank you," she said, eyeing him just slightly above the white petals.

"I thought it was fitting."

She nodded in agreement, and reached out for his hand. "Let's go to sleep," she murmured softly to herself; her eyes fluttered close.

Byakuya placed a finger under her chin - tilting her head up - and kissed her on the brow.


	22. It Comes & Goes in Waves

_One Day Ago_

Stark – it was the only word that came into her mind. The room was stark. The walls were stark. Even the floors were stark. Everything was spotless and functional, nothing more.

Hisana sat on the examining table. Her arms wrapped around her in a tight hug. Her hands trying their best to rub warmth back into her shoulders. It was of no use. The coldness in the room had worked its way into her very marrow. She was beyond the reach of even a desert sun now.

She was scared. Slowly, she began to rock herself, hoping its soothing effects would set in. It was futile. Fear resided deep within her on so many levels. And, sitting in that stark room filled with coldness and fear, Hisana could feel a burning sensation emanating from her eyes.

Like the inescapable chill and fear before it, the burning came in waves. First, it was a dull sting, then it gradually built momentum until her vision blurred. The room in front of her swam. But, she was determined not to shed a single tear.

It was too cliché. She did not make a habit of crying at the doctor's. What was so different now?

She pressed her lips firmly together.  _'It'll be fine. It'll still be there. I'll be able to feel joy again. Everyone will be happy, right? Won't you be happy?'_  Her mind lingered on the latter thought. An unnamable emotion swelled deep within her, cryptically answering her question.

' _It's so complicated. Isn't it? But I feel…'_

She stopped herself. She refused to think the word. If she squeezed her eyes shut and drove the adjective from her head everything would be well and good.

'… _empty…'_

The tears welling in her eyes finally came streaming down her cheeks. She was close to sobbing when she heard a soft knock on the examining room door.

"Lady Kuchiki?"

Clutching herself and shaking, she looked up to see the doctor. The tension in the room was palpable as she searched his face.

"No!" she choked, feeling a sob catch in her throat.

"I'm sorry, Lady Kuchiki…"

The condolence came too late.

She had already unraveled.

"Do you want this information released to Lord Kuchiki?"

Consumed by a paralyzing grief, all she could do was shake her head. Words were far beyond her reach.

* * *

 

It was still very early in the morning when she returned to the estate. Byakuya would be asleep, she thought to herself. If there was any comfort to be found in her state it was in knowing that he remained benighted on matters regarding her health.

Byakuya knowing was not going to do either one of them any good. It just wasn't – a conclusion she had come to a few months ago. It could not be helped.

Quietly, she trailed down the corridors leading to the bedroom.  _'No, it will just make it harder on all of us. He's tried everything in his power. It won't stop.'_  She shook her head at the sobering tone of her inner voice.

She was ill.

Absently, she pressed a hand to her abdomen.  _'Barren…'_ The word seared its way into her mind, eliciting a shiver.

She was a terrible sister, and now, she was a worthless wife.

She halted a hairsbreadth from the door in front of her.  _'Should I?'_  She reached up – hesitant to pull it back.

' _He'll surely be asleep.'_

' _But what if he is not?'_  The timid, insecure part of her questioned.  _'He'll know something is wrong. You never get up this early. He'll know…'_

She pursed together her lips, and lowered her head as the internal battle raged on. So caught up in her own thoughts, she did not notice the shadow creeping up the walls beside her. Nor did she detect the spike in spirit pressure from behind her.

"Is there something wrong?"

She jumped at the words. Reflexively, her muscles tensed as she whorled around to see her husband standing mere centimeters away. Her heart fluttered inside her chest, and hammered a heavy tune. So hard it beat she could hear the sound of blood pounding in her ears.

Clenching her chest, she inhaled a lung-full of air in hopes that it would mollify the staccato rhythm of her heart. "Nothing is wrong," her voice warbled.

Byakuya tilted his head to the side, and shot her a discerning stare. He sent a silent inquiry her way – willing her to elaborate.

She replied with a comforting smile. "I'm sorry. Did I wake you this morning?"

He remained unmoved. His expression was impassive, yet she could feel his eyes on her. He was intently studying her.

' _He knows_.  _He knows something is wrong.'_

She blinked, and bowed her head. Her gaze fell to the hardwood floor. "I went to the Fourth today," she admitted belatedly.

He lifted his head. "I see." Inwardly, he cringed. He came off more austere than he intended.

Hisana's gaze shot up to meet his. She inhaled a deep gulp of air; the air's chill, however, stung its way down her already parched throat. Trying her best to comfort him, she shook her head at the thoughts she knew were racing through his head. "It was just a blood test," she reassured him… shakily.

His eyes narrowed imperceptibly. He was not so easily convinced. He knew his wife well. She did not want to make him feel ill at ease, and he was reasonably sure that she would lie and prevaricate to save him any pain.

"Is that all?" he asked, giving her an incredulous one-over.

Briefly, she pressed her lips together, and nodded her head. "Yes. They took blood for my annual checkup. It was nothing." She extended her arm, and pulled up the sleeve of her yukata. Underneath the blue fabric was a small bandage. "See, they only took blood." At least she was not lying about that part.

Tenderly, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. It was so small, and delicate in his hand. His gaze slowly trailed up her arm and to her countenance. She was pale and frangible. She was also a fleeting thing; his subconscious was well aware that her stay with him was a transitory one. She would become a memory – a phantasm of his mind. It would crush him - change him irrevocably. Death was a powerful force; it was after all the great equalizer, and its reach extended far into the afterlife.

She stared into his dark blue eyes. They were searching, probing her with a glint of concern. A lugubrious smile thinned her lips as she watched him. She could feel the air around them thicken in a mixture of pain and sorrow. It was all unspoken, but, then again, that was how they preferred to deal with it. Ignoring the demons that were banging at the door felt more productive than inviting them in for tea.

Teatime, Hisana was sure, would come soon enough. It was inevitable. But, she still felt life coursing through her. It would take time. It was probably not enough time, but they would have to make due. They were good at that, Hisana mused to herself.

The stillness protecting them from unseemly emotions was tragically temporal and fragile. The moment Byakuya brought her hand to his lips, she felt her stomach churn. Tears welled in her eyes, and she tried her best to keep down the sob desperately fighting to be heard.

She stifled one cry, but another was climbing up the back of her throat. An infusion of rage, anguish, and grief swirled inside her body. The emotional turbulence heated her blood and worked to tighten every muscle. Her fingers curled into fists; the nails dug deep into the pads of her hands.

Hisana's look of repose was slowly beginning to fade into a twisted expression. With each wave of anger, her body became rigid and stiff. With each wave of torment, her brows knitted closer together and the lines around her eyes attenuated. With each wave of sorrow, her heart ached and a cry built in her throat.

The break down was richly deserved – even she realized that on some level. But, she could not do it in front of anyone, especially  _him_. It was unnecessary. It was ungrateful. It was selfish.

Byakuya narrowed the space between them. Gently, he placed a finger under her chin and urged her head upwards. Hisana opened her eyes to see him gazing tenderly down on her. Tear-tracks stained her cheeks, and her eyes were quickly becoming reddened.

She parted her lips to speak, but he silenced her with a kiss.

It started out soothing, comforting. Hisana, however, pulled away for a moment. Her hands reached up and caught in the folds of his blue kimono. Feeling the silk caress her fingers, she clenched her hands. The fabric pulled tight against his shoulders.

She drew closer against him. The heat of his skin bled through the garment and warmed her. "Everything is going to be…" she did not have the heart to finish the sentence. Instead, she tilted her head and kissed him back.

Her kiss was searching, selfish, and desperate in execution. She wanted to stop it, and she didn't want it to stop at the same time. Everything flowed together in her mind - past, present, and painful future – until she was not sure what she was doing.

Her left hand was placed firmly on his shoulder. Her fingers sunk into the fabric; their pressure was felt acutely against the skin underneath.

Her right hand clenched his hair. Wiry fingers were tangled in the inky tresses, forcing his head back until he withdrew from her.

It needed to stop, she reminded herself. This was not going to make her feel better. Was it?

His lips descended on her neck. Gently, he moved until he felt her pulse quicken under his mouth. It was a wonderful sensation against his tongue. It meant she was truly alive. It meant that she was really with  _him_.

Hisana felt her body run hot and cold simultaneously the moment she felt his hands tugging at her obi. "Byakuya-" she murmured against his hair.

He could not help but take some delight in hearing her call his name. There was no title or honorifics attached to it. It was plain, and familiar.

Feeling slack in her obi, he looped his right arm around her waist, drawing her tightly against him. He extended his left arm to slide the door open.

Hisana breathed in the fragrance lingering in his hair, and settled comfortably in his arms.  _'This isn't right,'_  her more rational self urged.  _'Diversion now will not save you from anything. You're just running away from the truth.'_

It didn't take much coaxing from her husband to erase the previous thought. Feeling his mouth pressed firmly against her collarbone proved to be an invitation too pleasurable to ignore. She shut her eyes, threw her head back, and indulged her most hedonistic self.

Instinctively, she snaked her arms around his neck the moment she felt him lean down. He carefully cradled her; his arms securing her firmly against his chest.

She felt light, he observed as he lifted her. Too light, he noted to himself as he crossed the threshold to the room. With an indiscernible shake of his head, he cast the thought aside.

Thoughtlessly, he urged the door behind him close with the heel of his foot. It was a clumsy move, and for a moment he faltered. Immediately, he turned his attention to Hisana.

She glanced up at him unperturbed. Reading the expression of embarrassment creasing his face, she responded with a knowing smile.

When they reached the bed, he gently set her down and withdrew to begin disrobing. Hisana, however, halted him with a single touch. Her hand met his, and she sat up. Wordlessly, she drew him to the bed where she slipped her hands underneath his kimono.

His skin was soft and warm against her icy fingers. She eased the garment down his shoulders, exposing his chest. She made quick haste of his belt, and she paused to watch the material fall away from his body. Her eyes hungrily traveled the expanse of his body. Muscles rippled under smooth milky skin. A faint smile thinned her lips as she gazed at him. Her hands were hard at work tracing the contours of his shoulders and arms.

' _He is really remarkable,'_ she mused, feeling her smile widened.

She often found herself admiring him whether it was while he was getting dressed or sitting across the room from her.  _'I wonder if he does the same?'_

The thought triggered by the question was not a pleasant one. A pang of self-consciousness pierced her heart. Absently, her hands pulled her robes tightly around her.

Fear swelled inside her, sending its icy tendrils down her spine. She looked much different now than she had when they last made love. Her body had become gaunt and concave in areas where she once had curves.

But, he had already seen her at least partially nude the day before. Her mind instantly flashed on the expression of disapproval he had when he saw her. Upon reflection, her body instinctively stiffened, and she became wary as he neared closer. All sexual desire evaporated from her.

Seeing the drastic change in his wife, Byakuya softened his expression. He was clearly unsure of how to proceed given her sudden chilliness. Did she want to stop? Was she not feeling well?

He reached for the hand that was clenching the ends of her robes together. He gently eased her fingers loose, and lowered her arm. As he did so he could feel her shiver under him. Keeping her hand in his, he gently slid the thumb of his free hand under the collar of her yukata. Once again he could feel her body stiffen and begin to tremble.

Slowly, he began to peel the kimono from her shoulders. His eyes remained fixed on her body as the fabric gave way.

Hisana turned her head to the side and squeezed her eyes shut. Her jaws clenched and her lips twisted into a frown. It almost pained her for him to see. She wanted to pull away, but he stayed her once more.

Feeling the fabric of her yukata slide down her arms, her trembling became more pronounced. She felt vulnerable – too vulnerable for it not to be a first time. But…

Byakuya glided his hands over her shoulders. His eyes were fixed on her – intensely observing. The body he had once worshipped – the body he knew so well – was gone. The shell that was left was not his wife. It was something  _other_. Something that was a product of illness. She was cadaverous in appearance now. Her soft supple form had been eaten away. The very thing that was killing her had finally manifested in a place that could not be so easily hidden.

It was heartbreaking.

Finding her nerve, Hisana opened her eyes. The first thing she descried was her own reflection in the mirror a few meters from her. The vanity was pressed against the wall in the corner in front of her. The reflection she saw was not her in her entirety. Only her clavicle and shoulder could be easily glimpsed. She appeared ghastly, she had to admit. She could easily see her collarbone protruding in a shelf-like fashion from her neck. Indentations and protuberances she had never seen before besmirched her once healthy body.

She lifted her head, feeling her husband's touch wandering across her clavicle. Solemnly, she turned her gaze to Byakuya. He looked absolutely stunned, borderline appalled.

She could have died.

Without warning, tears began to cascade down her cheeks. Her shaking intensified. Immediately, she shrugged back on her yukata, and hastily took to her feet.

Byakuya had not even the chance to catch her arm to stop her before she left the room. He had reached, but his grasp had been short. She was gone in a flash, and, there he remained alone clenching air. It was all so surreal.

It was all so horrifying.

He closed his eyes, and clenched his jaw. Anguish simmered deep within him. How had he been so blind to his wife's plight? How had he not known it had escalated so very far? He lifted his head, and stared hard into the ceiling above him.

Anguish slowly melted into anger. It was a diffuse feeling, really. The object of his ire was an intangible entity, but he felt the pain nonetheless. Against this enemy, he was utterly helpless. Nothing he could throw at it would stop its progression.

Not that his wife was much help.

He shook his head and closed his eyes at the thought. It was not her fault. But... He could not help but wonder if she _wanted_  to let go.

Once more he pushed the idea away as absurd.

' _But she could have fought harder. She can fight it can't she?'_

He opened his eyes and grimaced. It did not matter. She had been going to the doctor. She tried her best to fight it off – to stave it away for as long as she possibly could. Just because she did not confide in him every time she found out her condition was worsening did not mean that she was neglecting her health.

Everything would be so much easier if he could save her.

' _What use is all the power, influence, and riches in the world if you can't protect what is most valuable?'_

Quietly, Byakuya put himself back together to the best of his ability. He exited the room, and slid into the adjoining corridor. Spotting Murasaki on his way to Hisana's chambers, he caught her attention. "Have you seen Lady Hisana?"

She shook her head. "No, Milord. She is not in her room."

He turned around, and wandered down another corridor. He could not feel her anywhere in the residence. Where could she have gotten to in such little time?

"Kishu," he murmured the moment the man came to greet him.

"Murasaki mentioned that you were looking for the Lady?"

Byakuya's eyelids fell in response.

"She went out for a walk. She said she needed some fresh air. The Lady did not look well, sir." Kishu bowed politely after addressing his benefactor.

Byakuya nodded absently to himself as he thought the situation over. "Did she take anyone with her?"

"If you mean Ito, sir, then she did not."

Byakuya turned on his heels.

"Sir?" Kishu called after him.

He paused in response.

"If I may make a suggestion?"

Silence indicated that the servant had better hurry with his advice.

"She seemed upset. It may be best if you leave her alone for now. She'll come back when she's ready, Milord."

Byakuya looked askance for a brief moment.

Perhaps the steward had a point?

' _It is unseasonably warm for spring.'_  It was the first coherent thought that crossed her mind in nearly an hour as she stood there on the bridge. Hisana's gaze was distant. Between bouts of sorrow, guilt, and anger she caught flashes of the color swirling around her.

There were the blacks and whites of the shinigami robes. For a standardized uniform there was a continuum when it came to color. Some of the uniforms were neatly pressed and pitch black with stark white borders. She assumed the wearers were probably newly minted shinigami. Some of the robes were faded, frayed, or tattered.  _'They have probably seen the worst,'_  she mused absently.

Hisana leaned her forearms against the coarse wooden banister of the bridge, and lowered her eyelids. Quietly, she inhaled a deep breath, and hoped that the last remnants of her internal turmoil would fall away from her. She had to admit that she was feeling better than she once had. Her mind was no longer completely consumed by heartache and grief. Those emotions, however, still took sanctuary in her but their clamoring had been reduced to a dull roar.

' _I don't have much time. I need to find her…'_  Hisana let her eyelids droop lower at the thought.

It was true. If her sister was still out there, then she had no other choice but to up the ante on her visits to Inuzuri. No matter the conditions externally or internally.

The feeling of warm determination stirred her from her complacency. She lifted her head and looked out on the water below.  _'I need to go,'_  she urged herself.

Absently, she glanced down to see her tattered robes, reminding her that even in her emotional stupor she had dressed to leave for the 78th District. She smiled at the thought; her gaze flitting up to the large gate leading out of Seireitei.  _'I have to…'_

Inhaling a deep breath, she took a small step forward but was quickly halted by a familiar voice.

"You are leaving?"

She straightened in response. The intonation came from her back. And, while she was tempted to turn and address him, she also did not want to break her resolve. Nothing could break her resolve; she was certain.

She had to find her sister. She had to go to Rukongai like she did nearly every day since her marriage. Foolish as it may have been, it needed to be done for her sake at least.

She turned her head and gave him a sidelong glance.

"I waited an hour," Byakuya murmured, trying his best to appear indifferent but failing miserably in the process.

' _Patience does not do him justice… I wonder if he took it on recommendation?_ '

She cocked her head to the side, and her expression softened. It was still strict and determined, mind you, but the austerity had lessened by degrees. "Thank you," she said, gazing over at him. It was not his words that touched her, but his gesture he made.

The stately, refined Byakuya Kuchiki stood donning a tattered (although still expensive) kimono and hakama. His hair was loosely pulled back into a ponytail, and he wore no weapon tucked into his hakama-himo.

If possible he looked utterly pedestrian.

She smiled sweetly at him. "You look…"

He quirked a brow in anticipation.

"…like hell," she chuckled, extending her hand out to him.

A small lopsided smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. He took her hand, and moved a few paces forward. Once firmly by her side, he tucked her arm against his, and the two began their way to the gate.

Hisana watched her husband intently. Her gaze was sidelong, and she fancied it imperceptible since it merited no response from Byakuya. He looked different for some reason. Wardrobe aside (she had seen him train in worse ensembles) his expression had changed. Yes, he retained that stoic mask he was so terribly fond of, but there was a glimmer of worriment in his gaze. There was a bend in his brow, and a slope of his lip that she had never before detected. It gave him a weathered appearance. Squint too hard and his countenance took on a callous expression.

The feeling of a thousand pinpricks trailing along her skin pulled her attention away from her husband. It was a hard vicious cycle.  _'I'm sorry.'_

She bowed her head, and her gaze took to the dirt path below them. The gate was not that far away, she noted to herself, stealing a glance upward.

"Captain Kuchiki!" a young male voice bellowed.

The two instantly halted, and turned to acknowledge the shinigami running toward them. Instinctively, Hisana retracted her arm from her husband's and distanced herself from him. Byakuya took a few steps forward to meet the boy halfway.

"Whoa, I almost didn't recognize you there, Captain! I'm so glad I finally caught you. We sent out a hell butterfly, but we didn't think it got to you."

Byakuya furrowed his brow. He had never heard of a hell butterfly going astray… "Yes," he murmured, silently urging the boy to get the point.

The boy, who was obviously very nervous, glanced down at the folded note in his hand. Rapidly he read the notes scribbled on the paper: "There has been a small inconvenience at the Sixth. We lost one of the squads on the map. Technology lately, for some reason, has been going haywire. Also, General Yamamoto has specific orders for you that you need to inquire after."

The boy was speaking so fast that Hisana could hardly keep up. It all sounded like one really long run-on sentence from where she was standing. She glanced over to her husband, who was nodding his head. Clearly, he was sifting through the deluge of information.

"Very well," he said pensively.

The boy bowed hurriedly before making haste back to the division headquarters.

Byakuya turned to his wife. "My apologies, Hisana. It seems I am unable to escort you to Inuzuri."

She gave him an obliging nod of her head. "Your men need you. Be careful."

He lowered his head reverently before disappearing in a blur.

And, so she was left situated by the gate. She was alone with only her thoughts to keep her company. She lifted her head slightly and panned the gargantuan wall and gate. It was going to take her quite some time to get back and forth from Seireitei and Rukongai.

' _You have no other choice.'_  She furtively glanced behind her as she considered returning to the manor and having Ito to escort her.

' _It would be prudent.'_

"You look like you're having a bad day."

Hisana perked at the sound of the voice. She wheeled around to confirm her suspicions. "Vice-Captain Shiba." She repressed the urge to cringe when she saw him. She was half-expecting a repeat of the awkwardness from the day before. But, from what she could tell he seemed to be in genial spirits.

"I heard your conversation with Byakuya."

She blinked. She rarely heard anyone refer to her husband in the familiar, save for some of his family members and Captain Ukitake. She did not realize that her husband and Kaien were on what seemed to be on even footing.

"Oh, yes," she stammered, remembering her manners. Not even she was sure whether she had made a statement or question.

"Does he often escort you to Rukongai?" he asked, carelessly fingering the hilt of his sword.

She shook her head. "This would have been his first."

Absently, he nodded his head. "Are you still going?"

She smiled. "It was my intention."

"Alone?"

"Yes. Alone."

The corners of his lips pulled downward, and his brow furrowed in response. He appeared to be contemplating something as he adjusted his zanpakutō.

She could tell something she said did not bode well with him. "Is there something wrong?"

"I have to go out that way – to South Rukongai. If you want…"

A knowing glance was exchanged between the two.  _'He doesn't think mere women need to be carrying on in the slums…'_

"Yes," she blurted out, much to his surprise and her chagrin.

A heavy silence blanketed the two. Both were obviously trying to sort through what had just happened.

Belatedly, Kaien was the first to speak, "Well, then c'mon!" He casually jerked his chin in the direction of the gate.

Hisana smiled and nodded her head in agreement. The idea seemed good at first, but she could not deny a very prominent nagging sensation pulling in her gut.  _'Perhaps this is too rash?'_

Regardless of her apprehension, she followed a few paces behind the shinigami...


	23. Stranger Searching Part I

"I forgot something," Kaien called to Hisana.

She stood still and dumbfounded. She could not find her will to move even after hearing Kaien's voice beckon to her from beyond the door. It was all just a little surreal. Sure, she knew that the Shiba family was nobility. Why she had never put two-and-two together with Kaien was beyond her. Maybe it was because he defied her preconceptions of how someone of noble birth should behave. He was easygoing, gentle, and  _kind_. None of which were virtues she associated with the aristocracy. Cruel, cloying, power-hungry, austere – that was what she knew of the nobility in Seireitei.

' _So strange…'_  She blinked, turning her attention to the edifice before her.  _'It looks nothing like the Kuchiki manor…'_ Absently, her head tilted to the side as she tried to make sense of the house's architecture.  _'Nope, it looks nothing like a noble's house.'_

"You know you  _can_ come in." Kaien's voice came crashing through her thoughts, sending her spinning back to reality.

She turned her gaze to the open door leading into the mansion. "Yes," she replied softly, moving up the stairs to the house.

Once inside she gave a cursory survey of the area. It was capacious and clean like the Kuchiki estate. It smelt the same as her home – a strange mixture of flowers, food, and disinfectant. It was just…  _different_.

Hisana panned the entryway nervously. For some reason, she found her presence in that house very strange. It was rare, indeed, for her to wander into unfamiliar homes. During her tenure in Rukongai, no one she was intimately familiar with had a house of their own. And, even in Seireitei, her husband and she were not exactly social butterflies. When Byakuya invited her to noble- or military-related functions it was usually carried out at one of the divisions or a spacious ceremony hall.

Wandering into someone's home – someone's most private domain – was just hair-raising. She knew no protocol to follow for such an occasion. She was totally disarmed.

Anxiously, Hisana searched the surrounding area for signs of where Kaien could have gone to. Seeing an open door nearby, she hesitantly crossed its threshold.  _'I hope I don't disturb anyone._ ' She was barely into the adjoining room when she was met by a loud, somewhat abrasive female voice.

"Well, well, if it isn't Kaien's little friend."

Hisana bolted upward into a ramrod straight posture, gaining a good three inches on her height when she turned to face the direction of the voice. As she expected, the voice's owner was female. An attractive female at that. She was thin, well-endowed, and had a long shaggily-cut mane. She was standing at the opposite end of the room; her right hand was firmly affixed on her hip.

Hisana stared at her long and hard in an attempt to discern the woman's expression. She looked friendly in a menacing, authoritative sort of way.

"Forgive my disturbance," Hisana said, bowing low.

"You're barely through the door and you're already apologizing?"

"Oh, I'm sor-"

"You apologize too easily." The strange woman dismissively waved her hand in Hisana's direction before turning around. "Come, come. Kaien is getting something he forgot. You can wait in here."

Hisana straightened her posture, and blinked thrice. "Yes," she responded, belatedly trailing after the strange woman.

The room was large, and in the middle of it sat a table covered with food. "Oh, I'm interrupting your," Hisana scarcely got the words out of her mouth, when the strange woman gestured for her to sit.

"Come on, if you're a friend of my brother's you can't be too terrible," she said. Confidently, she took a seat at the head of the table.

' _She is his sister?'_  It was not totally out of the realm of possibility. The two did look similar – athletic build, dark hair, a commanding presence.

Subserviently, Hisana followed in kind, making sure to keep a steady eye on Kaien's sister. There was something intriguing about the woman. She held herself with such authority – with such self-assurance. Her stance was completely open as she sat; her legs were parted in a masculine fashion; and her arms were pulled back slightly away from her body, indicating that she was prepared for anything.

To Hisana, who was pulled from one extreme to the other in terms of social decorum, this noble woman was _fascinating_. She was a living, breathing paradox – an aberration from what Hisana was used to dealing with when it came to Seireitei aristocracy.

So captivated, she had totally forgotten herself. All social pleasantries completely flew out of her head, and she sat staring dumbfounded. She probably would have continued stupidly gazing ahead if a strange nagging at the back of her mind had not interrupted her.

' _What is that?'_ She stirred, feeling a strange heat warm her. The sensation of being watched raised her hackles and sent her on edge.  _'But what is…?'_  She looked up to see the woman in front of her was paying more attention to her food than her company. To the woman's right and left stood two brawny guards, both of whom stared motionlessly ahead. They were looking in Hisana's direction, but not at her.

' _Then, who is looking at me?'_

Hisana's question was immediately answered the moment she glanced down.  _'A cat?'_  Her brows pulled together as she examined the sleek four-legged animal. The feline was black, slim, and training its yellow eyes on Hisana. Quietly, it slinked over to where she was seated and sat right in front of her. It appeared to be closely scrutinizing her as if it remembered her from some previous meeting.

' _Ugh, I didn't see you before…'_  Hisana mused. She was somewhat baffled that she had missed the animal on arrival. For a moment, she lifted her hand before thinking better of it. While the shiny and luxurious coat seemingly called for her to run her hands through it, the cat staring deep into her eyes did not look like a pet. No, this feline appeared almost  _regal_ , sitting there watching her with that glassy yet probing gaze only animals possess.

"Yor— ," the woman began from across the table; however, she was interrupted by the sound Kaien made as he entered from one of the side doors.

Glancing up at her brother, she gave him a sly smile. "Your girlfriend here had barely been here for two minutes and has already apologized to me ten times. Where did you find  _her_?" she said teasingly.

Kaien's eyes widened, and he immediately shook his head. "This is not Miyako."

Hisana felt a pang of embarrassment for Kaien as he hastily tried to explain their relationship.

"She is just a friend," he added.

"Well, does this  _friend_  have a name?"

Trying to appear nonchalant, he leaned his head back, and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He then gave his sister a sheepish grin. "Oh, yeah, sorry for the rudeness. Kūkaku, this is Hisana. Hisana, this is my sister, Kūkaku Shiba."

Hisana pressed her lips together the moment she realized that Kaien left off a very important  _part_  of her name… She wondered if it was just out of habit or if it was intentional. If she trusted her gut instinct, she would bet on the latter. From what she could tell, the Shibas and the Kuchikis had some underlying drama between them. At the very least, the relationship between Kaien and Byakuya was estranged. And, Hisana was beginning to understand why the two men were not the best of friends.

Kaien was the antithesis of everything for which Byakuya stood. (Or, at least would like to be perceived as standing for.) Kaien was open, extroverted, and had an ease about him when it came to people. He also seemed very forward and brash from what she could tell. Byakuya, she had a sinking feeling, was indeed all of these things, but he hated it. A noble was suppose to be  _above_  emotions; a shinigami even more so – anything that appeared remotely human was detestable.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she glanced up to see Kūkaku lifting a brow upon comprehending her name. "Oh, I see," Kūkaku said cryptically.

Hisana glanced over to Kaien who was still holding his sister's look.  _'She knows,'_  Hisana mused. Before she had the chance to get lost in her thoughts, she was distracted by the sensation of smooth fur running against the back of her hand. Mindlessly, Hisana raised her hand to allow for the cat's tail to wrap around it as it sauntered by. Slowly and deliberately, the feline turned around to make another pass.

"Yor—"

Hisana's gaze shot over to Kūkaku just in time to see Kaien catch his sister's attention. With a single stern look he stayed her from completing what she was about to say. Hisana furrowed her brows. Her gaze drifted suspiciously from one sibling to another.  _'Is there something special about this cat?'_

"Cat, move," Kūkaku said, snapping her fingers to punctuate her dissatisfaction.

Hisana glanced back down at the cat to see it pause mid-step before obstinately sitting down in front of her. It then shot Kūkaku a haughty gaze. Well, a haughty gaze for a cat at least.

Hisana pressed her lips fast together, and tried not to smile. "It is strange to see a cat around these parts." She shifted her weight back onto the balls of her feet before standing.

"He's a stray," Kūkaku growled, trying her level best to shoo the feline away with a minatory stare.

The cat, however, was not so easily intimidated. Instead of stirring from its place, it responded with a yawn.

"He's just searching for an answer to his problem," Kūkaku griped, glancing back up at Hisana.

Hisana offered a smile in reply. "Maybe we're searching for the same thing," she said wistfully.

The air in the room suddenly thickened and became cool. Feeling the palpable tension, Hisana surveyed the occupants to find them staring at one another. Even the cat had taken pause and had turned his head to shoot Kūkaku a sidelong glare.

' _Is something wrong?'_  Hisana's brows knit together, and her gaze drifted back and forth between the siblings and the cat. Hell, even the guard's expression of stoicism had melted somewhat. The looks were obviously meaningful, but Hisana could not decipher what exactly was going on. And, while her curiosity was strong, her manners proved stronger in this situation.

It was Kaien who finally broke the stillness that had settled between them. "Let's go, Hisana. It's getting late."

She nodded her head in response. "Thank you, Kūkaku Shiba. It was a pleasure meeting you," she said, bowing first to the noble and then to the cat.

Amused, Kaien paused. He then leaned forward slightly, and with an expression of sarcasm written on his face whispered: "You do realize you just bowed to a  _cat_?"

A grin immediately thinned her lips at the observation. "It seems like a very noble-looking cat, no?" she murmured playfully.

With a smile and a shake of his head, Kaien led the way to the door.

"You said you were looking for someone. Is that why you want to go to Inuzuri?" he asked the moment the two were down the steps to the house.

"I said I was looking for some _thing_ ," she corrected coyly over her shoulder. "But, yes, I am searching for someone very dear to me."

"Does your  _husband_  know about this?"

Detecting some derision in Kaien's voice, Hisana slowed in pace. She contemplated whether or not it would be appropriate to answer him… "Yes, he does."

"And, he doesn't mind?" Kaien asked, giving her a sidelong gaze.

Hisana responded with a distant lugubrious smile.

He nodded his head, understanding her silence well. "Come on. Do you know how to flash-step?"

Her eyes widened. "No," she said, emphasizing her point with a shake of her head.

"C'mon. You have enough spiritual pressure to manage that, don't you?"

She threw him a skeptical gaze.

"Well, then, I suppose you're going to have to hold on." He held out his hand to her, and she hesitantly reached out to take it, but stopped just short of making contact. She was sure that his intentions were as pure as hers, but… Part of her found the prospect of touching another man too strange.

' _It's for my sister.'_

Before she had the chance to commit, Kaien had already taken her hand. Gently, he pulled her closer to him and placed a conciliatory hand against her shoulder. She glanced up at him, emoting her worriment loud and clear.

"You've done this before?" he noted aloud.

The memory of flash-steps past elicited a wince on her part. It was an awful experience from what she could recall. The sheer speed, the careening landscape, the muted colors rushing past her, the lack of air – it was baleful. Then, there was the aftermath. Her body was jittery, and her stomach always felt like it had been left behind on departure.

She braced herself under his grip. Her eyes were tightly squeezed shut, and every muscle in her body tensed. She stood with the rigidity of a corpse after rigor mortis had set in.

He chuckled lightly at her tortured expression. "I'll go easy on you."

Hisana opened one eye. "Promise?" Her voice quivered.

"Yes."

And like that the two were off in a blur.

It was not as bad as she remembered. She attributed this to the fact that Kaien was not as fast as her husband. It was still awful, though, Hisana apprised herself. It still felt as if her stomach had dropped on departure. Her body still trembled due to the speed at which they were traveling, and the bursts of reiatsu he released while pressing forward was smoldering.

Feeling her wane in his grip, Kaien paused on rooftop to let her regroup.

Unsurprisingly, once they halted she flew forward, but was easily steadied by the Vice-Captain. "Hey, there, are you okay?"

Disoriented and weaving back and forth, she stumbled in his arms. Her body was so dreadfully warm. The feeling of being on fire, however, was just one of her many afflictions. The scenery swam and swirled before her. Her equilibrium was horribly askew, and her head pounded with the strength of a 1000 war drummers. If Kaien let go of her now she would surely topple over, but if he kept on she was going to pass out or worse from being so overheated.

"I've never seen anyone turn that shade of green before," he noted; his voice sounding less and less amused with each syllable.

"Please, let go," she muttered softly.

"What?" he asked, leaning closer to hear her voice.

"Let go!" To hell with pleasantries!

It was too late. The bile was already rising in her throat. Within seconds it triggered her gag reflex, and she wrenched.

Trying his best to chivalrous, Kaien moved to allow her more space. Carefully, he guided her down against the rooftop. But, even for Kaien, sometimes the best intentions end disastrously. The roofing apparently was not in tip-top condition, and as he moved he sent some of the slats skidding downward. This caused an avalanche of tiles to come sliding underneath him, causing him to lose his footing. In truth, he probably could have saved himself if he had not been trying to stabilize another, but that was neither here nor there. As he was holding onto Hisana, he was caught off guard and off balance, and the two went careening toward the ground below.

When Hisana looked up again, she found herself sprawled out against the dirt with Kaien Shiba on top of her. All of the air had been expelled from her lungs on impact, and she writhed underneath him gasping for air. Panting, and thrashing her head from side to side, she felt the good Vice Captain roll off her and help pull her up.

"Are you alright?"

She glanced up at him; her eyes narrowed at the idiocy of such a question.

"It was rhetorical," he added sardonically.

With a sharp tug, he yanked her to her feet. "Well, at least you're not heaving anymore."

She did not look amused.

"I'm fine in case you were wondering," he said offhandedly.

That did garner a smile from her - a wide, cracked one at that.

Wordlessly, the pair began dusting off their robes. "Maybe we should walk a bit?" Kaien suggested.

Hisana nodded her in approval, sensing that he was not asking for her sake alone. They walked silently out of the alleyway where they had taken the spill. "Where do you think we are?" she asked, looking all around. Wherever they were it was dry, hot, and the color palette consisted of yellows and oranges.

"Somewhere in the 30th District," he said, withdrawing a small device from his robes.

"Only 48 more districts to go," she said drily.

"We'll walk to the border of this district and then…"

She could fill in the words. They weren't pretty, but Hisana was a pragmatic person. She knew walking was not a feasible option for either one of them. He had a mission to complete and they both had to return to Seireitei at a reasonable hour.

"Thank you," she said softly from behind him.

He glanced back at her. "If it was an inconvenience I wouldn't have offered."

She managed a faint smile in response. He was lying, she could tell. For some strange reason or another he had taken pity on her. Not that she was complaining. If he had not she would have had to huff it for a great distance alone.

"Now, could you stop with the ten paces behind me thing? It's really annoying."

Her eyes widened in response. She was so accustomed to it that she did not even realize she was doing it any more. "So- sorry," she stammered, quickening her step.

Quietly, the two wound around the bustling town. The people in the 30th District looked considerably worn and tired from hardships past. As they proceeded further into Rukongai the residents' expressions would change from tired to desolate, from desolate to hopeless, and from hopeless to criminal. It broke her heart to see the drudgery in their stares as they turned to glimpse Kaien dressed in the infamous black shihakushou. Even the children knew what the uniform signified. To them it was a symbol of hope, Hisana noted wryly to herself.

' _A false hope…'_  The words, unspoken, seared into her mind. It was cruel of her. She knew the shinigami had a function to perform. It was a necessary one at that. Necessary, however, did not make the actions carried out  _good_. There were necessary evils, she reminded herself. Becoming a soul reaper was one of those.

As the two passed, townspeople paused in the streets. Vendors poked their heads out for a glimpse, and children ceased playing their sports. They all wanted to see the shinigami passing through. Hisana tried to keep her eyes trained on the area ahead of them, but every now and again her gaze would flick up to Kaien. He appeared immune from the attention.

' _Perhaps he is use to it. Perhaps he doesn't even notice the sudden quietness.'_

"So, who is it you are looking for?" he asked, feeling her stare bore into him.

Hisana blushed at the realization that he caught her. "My sister."

He lifted his brows at the response. "Were you two brought to Soul Society at the same time? Because…"

She nodded her head. "Yes, we were."

"So you got a ticket, then? You know it is very hard to locate loved ones here."

"I had her in my arms when we arrived."

His brows shot up at this. "You were sent here  _with_  your sister? As in you two were in the exact same physical location?" Such a scenario was rare. So rare, indeed, that it bordered on the improbable. That was not how Soul Society worked. Souls, even those who are sent together, rarely end up in the same district let alone the same physical area.

Hisana could hear the incredulousness in his tone. All she could do was lift her head and offer him a tired look. "Yes. We were sent here together, and we arrived in the exact same spot."

His brows knitted as he considered the possibility. "I don't understand…"

A sad smile lengthened her lips. "You don't need to understand."

"What happened?" Upon hearing himself, he stiffened. He had not meant to ask the question, let alone sound so brusque while doing it.

Contrite, she shook her head, and her face blackened. "I couldn't…" her voice trailed. She did not have the heart to complete the thought. It was too hard. Verbalizing her transgression just made the internal wound sting that much more.

He nodded his head, averting his gaze to the dilapidated wall ahead of them. "I can imagine in Inuzuri... I still can't believe that you were sent there with a child. It just doesn't happen like that."

She inclined her head. "Not everything is what it seems," she murmured vaguely.

Instinctively, his cadence slowed and he watched her. There was something veiled in her meaning. There was something wrong, dire even – something that she was guarding.

Trying her best to break the tension seeping into the air, she jogged forward a few paces, and glanced over her shoulder. She feigned a look of cheer. "The gate is ahead!"

She could tell that he saw through her façade, but he was kind enough not to pursue the matter. Kaien ran after her. Reaching the wall ahead of them, he took her by the shoulders and the two set off to the 78th District.

"Tell me," she gasped the instant she felt them come to a dead stop, "it is easier on you, right?"

Kaien was gingerly bracing her as she wobbly took a step forward. "Yeah. Some might even call it fun."

She teetered for a moment, tryingly to reclaim a shred of her composure. Her heart hammered between skipped beats; her body felt like it was aflame; and her skin was slick with sweat. At least she was not nauseous. No, her last purge had cleared any contents from her stomach.

" _Fun_ ," she echoed belatedly.  _'Shinigami have a strange definition of fun, then.'_  Feeling her spine ache from slumping, she rolled her shoulders back and raised her chest up.

"You'll become a pro at this in," Kaien began but was quickly interrupted by a chorus of tiny voices.

"Ms Hisana," they chanted. Out of nowhere a gaggle of children gathered around her. They were small with thin wiry frames. Their dirt-stained cherub-cheeks were rosy from routing around in the sun, and their eyes were bright and large. All of them were dressed in tattered kimonos that were held together by hastily sewn patches. The patches, of course, never matched the fabric of the kimono, and ranged the gamut in color from red to purple.

"Ms Hisana, Ms Hisana," one of the boys whined, flailing his arms in the air. She bent down and scooped him up. Carefully, she braced his gangly body against her hip. A contented look smoothed the lines of his face. "I tore my sleeve again," he murmured into the small of her neck.

Hisana titled her head to get a good look at his face. His eyes were shut, and his breathing was shallow. She knew this expression well. It was one of exhaustion and hunger. She managed a smile, and kissed his forehead. "I can fix it."

"Look, look! Ms Hisana brought a shinigami with her! I knew she had shinigami friends!" two of the little ones screeched.

Still cuddling the boy, Hisana turned to Kaien, and smiled politely. "Thank you, Vice-Captain Shiba." She lowered her head and bowed as low as she could with a child in her arms.

Kaien glanced down at the children and grinned. "I'll find you when I'm finished," he said, turning his attention to her.

She bowed her head. "Be careful." Her voice was soft and light on the air. When it reached him he turned and replied with a small smile. It was rare, indeed, for someone to wish for his safety. It felt nice.

In a blink of an eye, Kaien was gone. The smell of burnt ground and musky dirt was the only remnant of his existence he left behind. Hisana waved the dust cloud away to the best of her ability, and then turned her attention to the quartet of children.

"We haven't seen the girl you are lookin' for since last month, Ms Hisana," the smallest one said. The child's eyes were large and doleful, and her lips pushed out into a faint pout.

Hisana nodded her head. She kneeled to set the boy on the ground. Tiredly, he untangled his arm from around her neck, and hopped down.

"It was by the stream, right?" she said.

The children nodded. "Hojo has gone every day since. But," the small girl said; her voice fading into a tremble as she spoke.

"Yes," Hisana urged gently.

"He's ill now," a boy child chimed helpfully.

Hisana's expression fell at the news. "Is he…" She really did not want to complete that sentence.

"He is resting by the stream with Big Brother looking after him. Big Brother says that he needs medicine, but we can't afford it. Ms Hisana, could you help us?" The little girl broke into tears on Hisana's shoulder.

Tenderly, Hisana stroked the young one's back, and nodded her head. "Yes, Maya, I will help."

On hearing her promise, the oldest boy grabbed her by the hand and tugged. "Follow us!"

Cradling the young girl in her arms, Hisana stood, and let the boy lead her to the small stream on the outskirts of town. As promised, the eldest "Big Brother" sat on the bank of the river. He stared deep into the distance. His eyes were dead and his face was drawn.

"Big Brother, Big Brother!" Two of the boy children bolted from Hisana's side and went running to him. "Look! Look!" they yelped, excitedly pointing to Hisana.

"Lady Hisana!" he cried, rocking to his feet.

"Dev," she greeted softly. "How is the child?"

He shook his head. An expression of adjuration twisted his features, and his gaze fell to the grass. "I don't know what happened, Lady Hisana. He came here like he did every day to collect fish and to see if he could find her. When he did not return, I found him lying here in a pool of blood."

Hisana inclined her head so she could establish eye contact with the young man. "May I see him?"

Dev turned on his heels and led her to a small patch of wilderness a few paces from the stream. The shelter they had made was nothing remarkable. It was just a few branches propping up a sheet of animal hide. Dev lifted the hide back to allow Hisana passage inside the bivouac.

Hojo rested in the middle of the shelter. His small form was covered by scraps of fabric, and leaves. His skin was sallow and waxy. Dark circles framed his eyes, and beads of sweat collected on his brow. Even breathing was a chore for the poor soul. Gasps and hoarse wheezes hung in the air as he labored to inhale.

"Hojo," Hisana murmured, kneeling demurely at the boy's side. She took his hand in her own. He felt so cold and lifeless. Rhythmically, she tried to rub warmth back into the graying flesh.

Glancing back at Dev, her expression soured into a look of unease. "Is there a wound?" she asked in a low rasp.

Nodding, Dev bent down beside her, and gently removed the tattered cloth and leaves. With gentle hands, he loosened the boy's robes, exposing an angry gash running across his belly.

Reflexively, her hand shot up to cup her mouth. "Oh, my," she gasped. The pungent smell of infection, faint when she first arrived, wafted over both of them.

Still holding her hand firmly against her lips, Hisana reached out to the boy. Her fingers hovered lightly over the wound. Quietly, she traced the laceration, feeling the heat radiating from it. She had never seen anything like it before. His abdomen was a deep shade of purple, and the skin around the injury had blackened.

Hisana pulled away from the boy, and set her hands firmly on her lap. She doubted that there was much now anyone could do for him. "Dev," she said in a weak voice.

"Yes, Lady Hisana?"

"Do you have any idea what caused this?"

He shook his head. "There are blade testers around this part, Lady Hisana. They go looking for people to test the sharpness of their weapons. Maybe?"

Hisana closed her eyes, reaching desperately for her inner calm.  _'Sister… What have I done?'_  It was the same question she asked herself every time she was faced with the brutality of the 78th District. Good souls – the band of children, Dev – were often the minority here. But…

It was selfish to be thinking about her own misery when she was confronted with another's tribulation. She could not help it, though. Every loss she endured here meant that it was increasingly less likely that a mere infant could have survived on her own.

Feeling her composure return, she turned her gaze to Dev. Her face was blank – emotionless. His face contorted by pain and sorrow.

"I'll see what I can do," she said, taking to her feet.

"Lady Hisana has done too much for us," he called after her. "I have some information that may please you."

She paused before exiting the tent.

"I was told that a woman who bore a likeness to you was traveling with a man. A tall man with bright red hair. Now, there aren't many redheads I've run into in these parts. Maybe, that helps?"

Hisana glanced over her shoulder and smiled sweetly. "Anything helps, Dev. Thank you."

She lifted the animal hide out of her way, and exited the rickety shelter.

"How is he, Ms Hisana?" Maya called, running over to her.

Hisana forced a smile, and patted the girl on the head. "We'll see." It was all she could offer in the way of optimism. Grimly, she stared ahead – passed the children, passed the scenery, passed everything. Now, she knew what Dev was looking at when she met him minutes before: A very depressing mindscape.

"Do you need any company, Ms Hisana?" some of the children called after her.

She turned to glimpse them out of the corner of her eyes. "Stay here with Dev and Hojo. I will return."

It was a short journey back to the marketplace. Souls milled near kiosks. Sounds of bartering, yelling, and cries filled her ears. The aroma of fish, rotten fruit, and sour milk flooded her senses. Poverty was everywhere and easily spotted. A petty theft here, a mugging there. But, if one squinted really hard, looked really closely, there was some wealth to be had in Inuzuri. Not much wealth, mind you, and the little bit of wealth to be had was hoarded by a select few. The 78th District was bad; there was no doubt about it. But, it was better than the two districts below it. Not much better, but any improvement is duly noted when it comes to penury and crime.

Carefully, Hisana weaved her way through the mass of souls. As she darted past the slew of people, she made sure to remain lost in the crowd. Selfish-herd syndrome or not, straying too far on the outskirts gave the less noble-minded individuals a prime opportunity to enact violence. And, while Hisana never wandered into Rukongai with much on her person, she was quite fond of her limbs and dignity.

"Here it is," she murmured, seeing the apothecary a few feet from her. Squeezing past a few men and a rotund woman, Hisana stood patiently at the kiosk waiting her turn.

"Yous got money?" the man asked, giving her a piercing one-over.

She nodded her head.

"Ya sures the hells don't look like ya got nothing."

She smiled politely, and nodded her head. It was the most she could do. Announcing her relative wealth would be a death sentence in this area.

"Ya better, bitch. I'm sick of you dirty little rats takin' my medicine and not paying. I'm not running a free clinic here. Ya got that?"

Once more she nodded her reply.

"What do ya need?" he asked, bracing himself a few inches from her on the counter.

"Do you have anything for a deep wound? A friend of mine-"

"Save the story, Lady. I could give two shits if ya got friends or not."

She pressed her lips together in response.

"Deep wound, eh?"

She nodded.

"How deep? Thorn deep? Nail deep?"

"Deep."

He chuckled. "Nice. Yar friend is probably gonna die. But, I can give ya something to fight the infection and kill the pain."

"Good."

He turned his back to her to search his collection of herbs and medicinal…  _items_. "How big is yar  _friend_?"

"He's about my size."

"I bet," the man growled to himself.

Hisana patiently waited leaned up against the counter while he plucked the necessary parcels from his stash. "My friend also is having some problems breathing-" she began but was interrupted by a sharp tug on her shoulder.

"Hey, you! I thought I told you to stay put while I went out for ointments for Kagi!"

Following through with the force pulling her, Hisana wheeled around to face a tall redheaded man. She blinked back her shock, and gently slid his hand off her shoulder. "Excuse me?" she asked, dazed.

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. "Sorry! I thought you were someone else!" he yelped, turning to make a dash for it.

"Wait!" Hisana called after him, trying her best to keep up with the young man. It was futile. He had a good yard on her before disappearing down some random passage. "Nice," she panted, bending at the hip and bracing her hands against her thighs for support. "My lead ran away."

' _On the bright side, the information Dev gave you may be good for something,'_  her inner optimist chimed inside her head.

"Yeah," she murmured. She straightened, and smoothed the wrinkles from her yukata. "She is out there. I just know it." She turned back to the apothecary.  _'After I deliver the medicines to Dev, I'll wander down that way. Kagi is what he said, right?'_

"Thar you are. I thought you done skipped out on me after I made your medicine," the large man greeted her once she returned.

"No," she said.

"Too bad," he hummed, his large frame drawing closer to hers.

"Huh?"

"When I turned around to hand you the meds, a fuckin' thief nabbed it."

Hisana rolled her eyes.  _'Inuzuri… Don't watch closely and they'll rob you blind.'_

"So, if you want more ya gonna have to pay double." He furthered his point by making a fist of his large hand and extending both his index and middle finger. "See? Twice the amount."

She grimaced, and shook her head. "Fine," she sighed.

The medicine had wiped her modest cash reserve clean. Taking the overly expensive parcel he handed her, Hisana slid into the crowd.  _'Stay small, and weary,'_  she kept reminding herself as she began her way back to the stream.  _'This isn't Seireitei,'_  the more cynical part of her noted.  _'Survival is king here not law or order.'_

It was true. The constant stream of thoughts telling her to watch out and remain on guard was absolutely necessary. She had gotten soft living in Seireitei even despite her daily visits to Rukongai. She was more open, kinder than she once was. She had developed some very bad habits – habits that could get her killed if she was not careful.

Today, however, she tried her best to remain hardened and guarded. Effortlessly, she drifted with the stream of people around her until she glimpsed a small clearing.  _'Perfect.'_  She made her escape, and quickly made her way back down to the bank where Dev and the children were stationed.

Her arrival was met with a few cries of excitement. The children hurriedly pooled around her robes. Their faces were bright with hope that she would help Hojo. "Thank you!" they called after her. She smiled her reply and went into the shelter to see Dev.

"His prognosis is bad," Hisana murmured. She had meant to turn it into a question, but her inflection fell short.

Dev sat facing Hojo. His back was facing her. Hearing her words, he nodded his head in agreement. It was not some great revelation. It was just a consequence of living in Rukongai.

"I brought some medicines to help ease his suffering," she said, drawing close. Politely, she kneeled beside Dev. Her fingers were tightly wrapped around the parcel.

Dev looked over at her. His face was inordinately pale, and he stared at her through glassy eyes. He appeared at odds with the thoughts running through his head – as if he had lost himself in the torment. He was old enough to know that there were better things outside of Inuzuri. He was old enough to comprehend the extent of the suffering that took place there. His gaze spoke volumes of the pain he endured and was yet to endure if he remained.

Hisana lowered her head, and turned her attention to Hojo. His condition had yet to worsen. He was stable for the time being.

"Lady Hisana," Dev said sheepishly.

She glanced back up at the adolescent. She could tell he wanted to say something to her. She could tell that he was having problems saying the words. "Yes," she encouraged evenly.

"I… I…" He inhaled a deep breath, and briefly threw his head back. "I was thinking about trying to get into the Academy."

She offered him a small smile. "Is that what you want?"

"I," he began, lowering his gaze as if what he was about to say would make him a monster, "I want to leave this place."

She nodded her head understandingly. "I see."

"I just don't know about the children. I can't just leave them here. Alone."

Hisana clenched her jaw at this. She knew this well. Too well, unfortunately. "Yes. It is a hard decision," she murmured.

"I just don't know what to do. Ever since she died, you know, it has become so difficult."

She managed a smile. "There is a lot of good you could do for them if you are admitted into the Academy," she said, trying her level best to remain unbiased. It was so hard. The similarities were just too painful.

He lifted his head, shooting her a hopeful look. "Do you think?"

She did not want him to go through what she had…  _'It's not the same, Hisana. He's a kid who's over his head. These children are not his real family. They're more like a team. You, however, you willingly abandoned an infant...'_

"Yes," she said softly.

"I want to leave, Lady Hisana. I don't think I can live much longer in these conditions."

' _It's the hunger…'_  She could tell by the look in his eyes that the kid was exhausted and hungry. It was the same look she had when she staggered through the town that fateful day.

"What good are you going to do them as Big Brother when you are constantly tired and rundown?" she asked, placing her hand on his.

He smiled weakly at her. "Thank you, Lady Hisana."

She nodded her head, and gently slipped the parcel into his hand. "Thank you for the lead you gave me."

His brows shot up. "Was it good?"

She winked at him. "We'll see." She stood and turned to leave. "I'll be back before I leave to say goodbye."

"We'll wait for you," he said, giving her a half-hearted salute.

She bowed, and parted ways with the band. It was back to searching as usual. The streets were hard, dirty, and in ill repair. Sunlight reflected off the pavement, heating the soul from both the sky and ground. The air was hot and humid, and as the day went on the marketplace took on a sour, acerbic odor as the produce and meats began to go bad.

All the legwork in the world, and she could never find the leads for which she searched. When she finally got someone to admit they had knew of a Kagi, they would not give up his location without a bribe.

' _Damn apothecary,'_  she thought ruefully to herself. She wrapped her arms around her chest, and slouched as she continued down the road. Every muscle in her body hurt. Her feet were sore from traveling along uneven streets. Her back ached from having little support in the way of shoes. Her cheeks burned from the sun.

Tiredly, she glanced up to see that dusk was finally coloring the heavens. Pinks, purples, and oranges streaked the sky. She would have thought it pretty if she had not been so tired and heady.

"You're lookin' for Kagi, aren't you?"

The voice came from seemingly nowhere. She quickly surveyed the area, to find a scruffy looking man in a ripped kimono braced against the trunk of a tree. "What did you say?" she snapped in the thickest Rukongai dialect she could muster. Gone was prim and proper Hisana.

He lifted his head and chuckled. "You're a fine little guttersnipe, aren't ya?"

She narrowed her eyes, and turned back around. "I ain't got time for you 'sall," she spat.

Before she realized it, the man had grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her into the wall of a nearby building. "I thought I was being helpful," he hissed against her ear.

She tried to wiggle free from his clutches, but the more she struggled, the tighter his grip became. "Well, you're not!" she growled. "I'm not looking for Kagi, anyway. I'm looking for his redhead friend."

A wolfish grin slit his face.

A wave of fear came crashing down on her the moment she saw it. Narrowing her eyes, she detected something familiar in that grin. It was almost Gin-like the way he peered down at her. She shook the thought away.  _'It can't be. The men don't look remotely similar…'_  But, there was something familiar about him. What, exactly? She had no idea.

"You're lookin' for the redhead, then?" he asked, sliding his hand against her neck.

"What's it to ya?"

"I know who you're talkin' about. I could tell you where he is. I only want one thing from ya…"

She glowered at him. "I don't have any money if that's what you're after." Her Rukongai chic accent was slowly melting with each passing word.

"There are  _other_  forms of payment." His heavy moist breath skimmed her ear.

"I don't have any of that kind of currency either!" She held his gaze, and stared deep into his icy blue eyes. She knew him from somewhere. But, where? Who was he, and why couldn't she place him?

"A kiss, then?" His face was a hairsbreadth from hers. All she had to do was incline her head only a little to meet his lips to meet the requirements for the deal.

She was tempted. It was only a kiss in exchange for a lead to her sister's whereabouts. "I don't trust you," she rasped out. "Give me something concrete."

His smile widened, and if possible he moved closer against her. His body pinned hers fast against the wall. "Ya think I'm lying?"

"Ya I think you're fucking full of it."

"The redhead's name is Renji." He smirked as he said it. "Now, what do I get in return for that piece of information?"

She jerked against him, but it was in vain. He was by far her physical superior. She could kick, wiggle, and writhe until the sun burned out and it was not going to get her anywhere. It just felt productive; that is, until he did something like shove a knee between her legs.

Her entire body tensed, and she tried her level best to repress the urge to spit at him. No, he might actually enjoy it. _'What have I gotten myself into?'_

"I didn't say I'd give you anything for it. I wanted you to prove to me that you knew your shit."

Hearing the obscenity, his grin became more menacing and foreboding.

"And, how the hell do I know the kid's name is what you say it is?"

He pressed harder against her throat, and kept on smiling. "Do you want the location?"

She glared into his cold, cold eyes. Snakelike – everything about the man was utterly reptilian. His fingers were cool and pale. His face dead despite the grin, and his eyes were unblinking.

"Just a kiss," he hissed, tilting his head to the side.

' _Who asks for a kiss as payment? In Rukongai of all places?'_ Her brows pulled together as she considered the possibility that "kiss" was code for something.

"What kind of kiss?"

He leaned down closer still until his lips were almost grazing her own. "The kind you use to kiss your husband." His breath fell heavily against her mouth.

Her eyes widened, and she thrust her head to the side. "Let me go!"

Before he had the chance to react to her thrashing, a rather large apple careened into the back of his head. Still holding her down, he turned to glance behind him to see three small children armed with rotten fruits and vegetables.

"Let her go!" they yelped defensively.

"Children, go!" Hisana called to them. "Run away!" The last thing she needed to see was this man hurt the children.

"Not until he leaves you alone!"

She shook her head. "Go!" she gasped, feeling his grip on her tighten.

The strange man, glared down at her before disappearing in a flash. Once released from the man's stranglehold, her body collapsed in a shaky heap on the ground.

"Ms Hisana!" the children cried, circling her protectively. "Are you okay?"

Still fighting back her jitteriness, she braced herself against the wall. "Yes," her voice cracked. "What are you doing here? I thought…"

"It's Hojo!" one of the children blurted. "Something is wrong with him!"

She blinked, not quite comprehending their meaning.

"Please, follow us!" the little girl said, taking Hisana's hand and pulling her up.

Her legs felt like rubber as she tried to stand. Taking a few steps forward, however, cured her bout of disequilibrium. "I'm coming."

"Quickly!" the girl commanded, still tugging at Hisana's hand.

She picked up the pace, until it no longer became necessary. "Hojo!"

Horror swallowed her whole.


	24. Stranger Searching Part II

"What were you thinking – throwing yourself on that kid like that? You could've died!" Kaien's objurgating followed a staccato rhythm as he led Hisana by the arm.

Stunned and disoriented, she caught what he was saying in fragments. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what had just happened. It all felt so surreal. If not for the stabbing sensation of pain clawing away at her back, she would have dismissed it all as the product of some delusion – a dream and nothing more.

' _The boy… He turned into a…'_  She blinked back the thought, forcing it to some dark, desolate corner of her mind.

"What happened?" she asked. She appeared remote as if she was dissociating.

Kaien guided her into a small dusky room, and gently nudged her into a sitting position before beginning. "There was a hollow attack," he answered matter-of-factly. Pulling away from her, he stuffed a hand into his robes and fished around until he found his satchel that contained first aid items.

Hisana turned her head to the side to look him over. She appeared slightly more cognizant than before, but there still remained an expression of confusion in her eyes. "Hojo?"

Kaien glanced away for a moment. "He hollowfied."

Hisana's face twisted with pain. "I see." She turned her head back to face the door to the room.

"He was going after a child and you dove in front of him to protect the child."

She nodded her head absently.

"He got your back," he stated, nonchalantly gesturing to the wound. It was deep and still wet with blood.

In response, she gave an over-the-shoulder glance. It was little use. The only damage she could see was that done to her kimono. While she could feel the crackles of pain coming from her back, at the moment, it was only a mild nuisance. She was sure that when the endorphins had worn off she would be writhing in agony.

"Where are we?" she murmured while giving the room a cursory scan.

"A hostel in Inuzuri. Don't you remember?"

Averting her gaze back to the wall in front of her, she shook her head.

Kaien's brows knitted together. There was something wrong. She appeared completely lost in thought – not all there. "You're going to have to pull down your kimono," he said, applying liniment to a gauze pad.

Hisana prickled; her posture straightening at the thought. "What?" Her face lost its expression of detachment and her eyes lit in shock at the request.

Judging by her expression, Kaien would have thought he had made an indecent proposition. Quirking a brow, he gave her a comforting half-smile. "Your back – it's injured. I was going to 'dress the wound' as they say at the Fourth."

She narrowed her eyes and studied him incredulously. "I can do it myself," she stated flatly, extending her hand out for the pad.

He laughed and shook his head. "There's no way you're going to reach it." Reluctantly, he handed her the pad and watched amusedly as she attempted to wrap her right arm around her left shoulder to get to the gashes. Navigating the folds of the tattered robes, she pressed the pad against the side of one of the three lacerations marking her pale skin. Her efforts were met with great pain, and she dropped the gauze to the floor.

With a smug look etched into his features, Kaien began applying antiseptic to a bandage. "How are you doing over there?"

Hisana threw a scowl in his direction.

Upon feeling the air around him chill, he grinned and nodded his head. "That's what I thought."

She folded her arms protectively against her chest, and glared at him.

He could feel her eyes on him as he replaced the container of antiseptic. "Regardless of whether I help you or not you're going to have to pull down the top of your kimono."

"This is…"

"I've done this plenty of times," he added reassuringly. "Listen, if it makes you feel more comfortable I'll take off my robes."

Her eyes widened into the size of half-dollars at the suggestion. With her lips agape, she looked positively aghast. "Now, how would  _that_  make this seem less indecent?"

His brows fell, and his jaw dropped in reply. "What? You're worried about something as meaningless as propriety right _now_?"

Her lips sloped into a grimace as she thought his question over. Sure, it was rhetorical, but…

' _I am behaving rather prudishly. Borderline childish, right? It's not like…'_  her thoughts drifted as she shrugged down her robes, and pulled her arms tightly around her chest.  _'No one would think badly on this. I'm injured and that's it. Never mind the whole absconding to Rukongai with Kaien Shiba…'_  the more mordant part of her added.

Wordlessly, Kaien pressed the bandage against her skin. The coldness of the cloth stung her heated flesh. The antiseptic sinking into her wound caused her more discomfort, eliciting a small moan on her part.

Feeling her wrench away from his reach, Kaien moved closer, and began anew. "So, your husband lets you wander around the slums alone often?" he asked, attempting to distract her from the pain the cleaning was causing.

Clenching her jaws, she fought threw the agony and swallowed the cry building her throat. "Yeah," she hissed. "I mean, no," she corrected between bouts of discomfort.

Kaien removed the once white cloth and looked it over. It was stained a deep shade of incarnadine.  _'Soaked all the way through.'_  His expression soured at the observation. The wound was mostly cleaned. It still looked reddened and angry, but at least it was no longer caked in blood.

Seeing Hisana tense in pain, he lowered his head slightly and began blowing on the gashes, hoping it would assuage her agony.

Hisana pressed her lips together the moment she felt his breath play across her skin.

"So, he doesn't like his ailing wife to wander this far out into Rukongai?"

"Not alone," she murmured, giving him a sidelong gaze. He had pulled away to apply some salve to a gauze pad.

Satisfied with the amount of balm on the gauze, he turned his attention back to her back. "You love him?" he asked casually, leaning in closer to press the gauze against the first laceration.

Hisana tensed the moment the question registered. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched in her throat. The inquiry was so innocuous in its execution. And, it should have taken no time to answer. It was so simple. But, she remained dumbfounded by it. To be honest, it was something she had never even thought about. Neither one of them had ever said those three little words: I love you. At least, they had never uttered that phrase to one another.

Her brows furrowed as she thought it over.  _'Is it love? Or, is it just comfortable? I care for him, but… Am I even capable of love? Should I have that privilege – to love, to be loved – after what I did?'_

"There! You're done," Kaien announced with cheerful finality.

Hisana turned to see him gather the used cloth and gauze pads, and pull away. He did not appear in the least irked or interested by her response… or lack thereof.

Unnerved, she gently eased her robes back over her shoulders, and readjusted the obi of her kimono.  _'Lord Byakuya loves me,'_  she thought grimly, smoothing the wrinkles from the front of her kimono.  _'I just hope he never says it…'_

"Are you ready?" Kaien called from the door.

She nodded her head, and carefully took to her feet. "Is it alright if I say goodbye to the children before we leave?"

He nodded his head. "We have time."

That had been one day ago. When she had returned home that night she had been greeted by a note resting on her desk. It was from her husband, informing her that he had been called away on business. It was very terse and straightforward, and ended abruptly.

Needless to say, it bothered her endlessly. The secretive nature of the mission disturbed her. The voice of the letter was hasty and abrasive. Then, there was the ending.

Standing quietly on the moon-viewing platform of the veranda, Hisana hugged herself tightly.  _'He knows_.'It was a grim proposition.  _'How much he knows…'_  That was the detail that she had been lingering on for what felt like eons. It was the very thing that plagued her as she read and re-read the note, imagining that with each character there was some veiled meaning hidden in that letter.

Had the note been intentionally laconic to express his disgust with her? Had it ended abruptly to indicate to her that he knew more than he would write at the moment? Perhaps he wanted to reveal more but simply could not; doing so would be inappropriate as it would not allow her a chance to defend her honor against any allegations.

' _I am going mad.'_  It was about time her logical self kicked into gear.

' _Is it so? Am I?'_  She stared deeply into the velvety nighttime.  _'I am tired. My back aches, and I need my sleep.'_

Silently, she turned on her heels and began her way to the main house. Shadows swayed on the lawn as a wind blew through the garden. It was a nice crisp night, she observed, glancing up into the sky. Absently, she paused midstep, and focused intently on the firmament. "The clouds are moving so quickly. I wonder if a storm is coming through," she muttered under her breath.

"Lady Kuchiki! Are you still up? Please, come in and get some rest. You haven't been looking so well." It was Murasaki's voice that broke through her aimless musings.

Hisana turned to face her handmaiden. She feigned a smile, and moved toward the open door. "Thank you for the observation. Spare no feelings," she said wryly.

"I'm sorry, Milady. But, Milord would be most displeased to return home to find you in mortal agony. How is your back feeling?"

Hisana discarded her footwear before crossing over the threshold. In a perfunctory motion, she turned to allow Murasaki to peel her haori from her shoulders. "Did Lord Byakuya make mention of when he would return?"

"No, Milady. He did not. Are you worried?"

Hisana's smile weakened and her gaze fell to the tatami, betraying her thoughts. "He will return well. I am sure."

Murasaki tilted her head to the side and smiled. "He always does, Milady."

"Thank you, Murasaki," she said, bowing her head politely. "Good evening," she said, turning toward the corridor leading to her room.

"Lady Kuchiki, do you need any assistance with your wound?"

Hisana gave her handmaiden a sidelong stare. "I am fine."

Quietly, she wound her way down the hall to her room. Her mind was on autopilot, and before she realized it she was seated in seiza in front of her mirror. A comb was lightly gripped in her hand, and she was absently running it through her tresses. The wound had taken a lot out of her, she had to admit. It was hard to move, and any little motion sent prickles of pain shooting through her system. The medicine she received from her doctor had worked to prevent infection, but the pain medication left her spent.

Her posture slackened, and her shoulders sloped as she closed her eyes. Her hand paused in the middle of a downward stroke of the comb. She could have passed out from exhaustion, but her mind could not find peace. It kept on moving from one meaningless thought to another: the letter, the furtive excursion to Rukongai, the picture. Her eyes flitted open at the latter thought. Instinctively, her gaze drew to the picture situated on the vanity.

She set the comb down with a "clack," and reached for the photograph. Her fingers lightly ghosted across the glossy surface. It was cool and slick to the touch; inviting yet utterly ominous. Quickly, she plucked the picture from the vanity and stuffed it into a drawer.

' _Inhale a deep breath,'_  she instructed herself. Calmly, she shut her eyes and drew in a breath.  _'Repose. Find your state of repose. Tranquility. Sleep.'_  Breathing deeply, Hisana felt the tension in her muscles melt away the moment she sensed a familiar fragrance.

' _I must be losing it,'_  she mused as her thoughts slow and slurred inside her head. She could have sworn she felt the presence of her husband. She could almost  _smell_  him. The odor of outdoor and musk permeated her.

It was so nice.

Warm and content, she tiredly lifted her eyelids and gazed into the mirror. She was alone, she noted feeling a raw emptiness settle in the pit of her stomach. She was fully expecting to open her eyes and see her husband. But, it was too much to ask for.

Hisana lethargically rocked back on the balls of her feet, and, steadying her weight with her hands, she managed to stand.

' _Body and mind are finally in agreement. I am tired,'_  she thought, spotting the already prepared futon in the middle of the room.

Reflexively, she rubbed some warmth into her arms as she neared. Suddenly she felt chilled to the core. "I'll need more blankets." She crossed the floor to the small closet where the linens were kept to find it bare. She sighed to herself.

Quietly, she moved to the door to her room and slid it back. There was a closet a few passageways down where some of the winter blankets were stored. She would have to fumble her way down the corridors to find it since she rarely had to collect her own blankets.

It was pure serendipity when she passed the door Byakuya entered through. With a small smile she took a few steps back and watched as he closed the door behind him. "Good evening, my Lord."

His eyes betrayed his alarm as he found her through the darkness. "Hisana."

She greeted him with an excited hug. Her small wiry arms tightly drew around him, and she buried her head in his chest. "I missed you," she whispered into his robes.

He looked down at her head, and lightly reciprocated her hug. "I was gone only two nights."

She inclined her head, and glanced up at him. "It felt much longer."

He leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips.

Feeling him break away, she smiled. "You are not mad at me?"

His brows pulled together at her question. "No. Why did you think that?"

"Your letter; it was very abrupt."

A faint smile lengthened his mouth. "I ran out of ink."

Her cheeks reddened in reply. "Is there anything I can do for you? You must be famished."

Gazing deeply into her face, he gently traced the dark bag under her left eye. "Sleep would be preferable."

She nodded her head, and took his hand in hers.


	25. Lonely Souls

Her fingers traced over his. The feeling of soft skin gliding across her fingertips proved sensuous. His hands were milky. Tenderly, she followed the outline of his index finger down to his wrist. Her hand effortless slid over his knuckles and veins, down to the base of his hand. She watched the muscles under his skin tightened when she touched him too lightly. She also watched the shadows shift and change with each movement she made.

It was so nice, she kept thinking. It was so nice to explore him to her satisfaction. The secrecy of it all relaxed her. He was asleep, or at least he was playing at being asleep. He often did that, she mused. He must have known that traversing his body with hers while he was unaware was her guilty pleasure. There was no pressure to perform, to make sure he was as comfortable as she desired to make him. No, when he was sleeping (or pretending to be asleep) she could be free to fumble, to be indelicate.

A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. The first time he caught her, she had been so embarrassed. He never caught her again. Yes, her husband knew a great many things about her, and yet he still remained her steadfast supporter. He was too good to her; too good to be true.

Winsomely, she leaned over him. Still in a slumped sitting position, she lowered herself down further. So close she was that her inky tresses spilt from over her shoulder and fell in her face. The ends of her hair dragged against his chest.  _'He's awake now for sure,'_  she mused with a self-satisfied grin.

Calmly, she brushed the hair from his forehead, and kissed his brow. He smelt so nice. No man should have the right to smell so nice. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled with equal force. Her warm breath ghosted across his face, and he remained still.

' _Such restraint.'_

A discordant string stirred in her heart.  _'How could I ever repay his kindness?'_  It was painful to think about all of the things he had done for her and how little she had given back. It had not been her intention to take and take. She wanted to give back to him what she took, but she did not know how. She had so little to give. She had no money or valuables. He had married her as a broken woman. He had married her knowing that she could never completely give herself to him – not when a large part of her was missing, forever searching for what she had lost.

' _For what I have thrown away,'_  she caustically rebuked herself.

There had always been a third entity in their marriage. It was ghost – an invisible being that came between them. It was a faceless disembodied soul that forced the two apart, creating distance in their marriage. If the ghost had been a real tangible object, then it would have been an emotional affair on Hisana's part. There would have been foul play in their marriage. But, the entity separating them was only a phantasm of her mind. It was a memory – a desire she wanted to keep alive. It consumed her body and mind. It ate away at her like a cancer. It cloaked her. Guilt was her bonnet; shame was her jewelry; and self-loathing was her dress.

Despair rose in her stomach, and surged up into her throat as her thoughts fixed on the inequity of their relationship. "I'm sorry," she whispered against his neck. "I did not return all I took." Her kisses became more feverish in execution as she explored his jaw-line. "Forgive me someday, please," she murmured once she had reached his ear.

She withdrew slightly, and glanced down at him. Any uncertainty she had once harbored washed away from her. He was definitely feigning sleep. She could tell for his lips had sloped into a frown, and the lines of his face had tightened. His breathing had also become far too soft for a sleeping man.

Contrition came in waves as she watched him.  _'You will survive me,'_  she thought, watching his chest rise and fall.

' _You will find someone again, won't you? Someone worthy of what you have to offer. Someone who can give all that they receive._

' _I wish I could find someone like that for you._

' _I wish I could have been that person for you.'_  She caressed the side of his cheek; her touch was feather-light at first, but slowly it began to grow heavy until she was stroking the side of his temple. Absently, she raked her fingertips across his scalp. The sensation of his hair against her skin always felt so rewarding. Even when it had stiffened from sweat, it felt nice to bury her hands in the inky tresses.

She drew closer so she could smell the fragrance that always lingered in his hair. It was distracting, and she was a woman who desperately needed to be distracted. It was so nice, she thought, fighting back the pain emanating from her chest. She swallowed the cough to the best of her ability, and kissed the side of his head.

He felt so warm, so inviting. She noted dreamily. She wanted to stay with him; she wanted to stay by his side, but she could not. He made her want to be better – for him so he could be happy. She wanted to see him laugh and smile.

She curled herself around him on the futon. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her right hand absently traced circles on his chest. It was comfortable next to him. His reiatsu enveloped her like a pulsing blanket. He did not suppress his spiritual energy well while he was sleeping or when he was feigning slumber.

Tiredly, she glanced up at the ceiling, and she wondered if it was possible that they were just two lonely souls who just wanted someone to share in the loneliness.  _'But if we're together then are we lonely?'_  She thought a moment and smiled.  _'Not when we are together. It goes away, at least for me, when you're here. Even when you are not saying a word. Everything starts to make sense. It is not perfect, but it improves. I hope I at least gave you that much. I hope I at least gave you sanctuary from the loneliness.'_

Her mind narrowed on the tense she had just used –  _"gave."_  She shivered at the thought. Had she willingly resigned herself to death? So easily? Did she want to die? She was sure that's what the others thought, or at least desired. She was a problem for the Family. Her death would be a proverbial sigh of relief for them. But, she did not want to die. She had not fully repented for what she had done to her own family. If she died now, then she would never see her sister again. She would never feel the satisfaction of extending to her sister a better life – of trying to make amends for her previous transgression. Atonement had not been reached nor would it ever if she died.

Dying did not solve any of her problems. It only made them worse. Anyone who thought she yearned for death was a fool.

"You're crying." The observation was made in a low gravelly voice. She stirred once the sting of its flatness wore off.

She tilted her head up on his shoulder and met his gaze. "I'm sorry. I've been doing that a lot lately it seems." She wondered briefly if too many tears could cause skin erosion…

He shook his head in response. "Go to sleep. You need your rest."

She managed a half-hearted smile, and gently untangled herself from him. She rolled over to her side of the futon. The sheets there felt cold and biting against her warm body. There was no comfort to be found, but it would have to suffice she thought soberly.

She did not, after all, want to erode his skin with her tears… She suspected there would be a few more nights when she would mentally wrestle with her impending death. She wanted to save his shoulder for when those nights came. She had a sinking feeling that it was going to get much worse before it got better.

"Good night," she murmured, hoping that he had already fallen fast asleep.


	26. Frequency

A cacophony of slamming doors and heavy footfalls filled his ears: "Clack, stomp, thump, thump, thud." There was something all too surreal about what he was experiencing. Reaching, he slid open a door. It was easy enough, and the sound of it being pulled back on its track was appropriate, but… Then, there was another door. He opened the door, took a few steps, and was greeted by yet another door.

There were not these many doors in his house. He was sure of it. No, this was not the Kuchiki estate at all. His home had been replaced by some strange labyrinth of shoji doors. But, why? Why did he continue forward?

Desperation was the answer. There was a desperate urging inside of him that forced him to continue. It was a strange ominous force that compelled him. He knew that something was awry. He knew that when he reached the end of the never-ending hall of doors that something awful was waiting for him. He could feel the dread building in his stomach until it was palpable.

" _You should have never broken the rules,"_  his uncle's voice rang out from seemingly nowhere.

He did not pause to take stock of the oddity for in his mind it was inconsequential. There was nothing that was going to stop him from reaching the unspeakable thing that lie beyond the doors.

" _You know why there are rules in place, young Byakuya. They are not arbitrary. They are there to prevent bad things from occurring. They are there to order life – to ensure peace and tranquility. That is why it is so imperative for us to uphold these laws.'_ The disembodied call wafted over him. It was the calm baritone voice of his father.

His brows furrowed and his jaw clenched the moment the advice registered.

" _Bad things happen when the rules are broken. They are there to prevent things like this from happening…"_

The sentiments kept repeating in his mind in an unending loop. With each door pulled back, the voices of his uncle and father grew more intense. With each pace forward, the loop sped.

His gut twisted and tightened in anticipation. His head pounded in rhythm to the sound of the blood rushing in his ears. It was all so terrible and dizzying. The scenery began to melt together, and the strange recording in his head began to slow and distort until the words became unrecognizable.

Then, he reached the last door, or at least what he thought was the last door. The wood of the door was red and the rice paper was black. He reached out for it, and threw it back with equal measure to reveal a dimly lit room. Shadows clung to the wall as thickly as despair hung in the air. Only a small rectangle of light was emitted from the newly opened door.

He  _knew_  this room. It was his wife's room except now it was bare – wiped clean of her existence. Stationed in the middle of the room was a small shrunken figure resting on a white futon. Beside the figure was Murasaki seated in perfect seiza.

"She is dead."

' _This is why there are rules – to prevent heartache.'_

* * *

 

He squeezed his eyelids tightly together upon waking. He could  _feel_  the sunlight streaming into the room, and the last thing he wanted to do was open his eyes and be blinded by the dreadfully sunny day. "Hisana," he murmured, stretching out an arm and patting his hand along her side of the bed.

Coldness met his touch.

His eyes snapped open and he pulled himself up into a seated posture. "Hisana?" he called, somewhat groggily. He looked out through bleary eyes and scanned the room. She was not in her usual place by his side nor at the desk. In fact, her futon was gone.

A chill bolted through him, and his heart skipped a beat.

Admittedly, he was not completely awake. Part of him, his rational mind to be specific, was still caught in that state of limbo that exists between dream and reality. He was not quite cognizant enough to decipher the imagined from the true.

' _Is she dead? Was it real? Am I alone again?'_  The questions kept piling in his head. Anxious at the prospect that he had lost her and could not remember when or if she had died, he yanked back the covers that had tangled around him and took to his feet.

Hastily and somewhat dazed, he slammed back the door and poked his head out of the room to find Ito folding some linens as he wandered the corridor. "Milord!" the servant addressed Byakuya reverently.

Byakuya stared at him. His eyes calm belied his confusion.

"Is there something the matter?"

"Lady Hisana?"

"She's gone, Milord."

Byakuya's eyes noticeably widened, and a stricken look painted his face.

Immediately observing his master's distress, Ito stammered to finish his thought. "I-I mean, she left early this morning. She said she would be back shortly; she was just going to the Fourth Division to get the results of her blood test. Why? Milord looks unwell. Is everything-"

Byakuya shook his head in relief, and gave a wave of his hand. "You are dismissed."

Ito bowed his goodbye before speedily scurrying down the hall.

Exhaling deeply, Byakuya braced some of his weight against the frame of the door and glanced up into the ceiling. This had only been a test, the more cynical part of him observed. One day he was going to wake up alone. Would he then be cruelly tricked by some dream that she still existed in this realm?

He inhaled a deep breath and closed his eyes at the thought. The day when he would come barreling out of his room in need of a servant to confirm that she was still alive when she wasn't would be a bad day indeed.

"Come this way, Lady Kuchiki," a female orderly said sweetly.

Hisana mindlessly followed the woman into a small white room. It had become a routine by now. A disdainful routine, but perfunctory nonetheless.

The orderly gestured to the examining table. "If you will, Lady Kuchiki, take a seat," she said in the most sanguine voice imaginable. "The doctor will be in shortly."

Hisana forced a smile and nodded politely as she watched the woman turn heel and leave. And, there she was… alone. She sat patiently waiting with only the low rumble of her own thoughts to keep her company.

' _Scheduling patients this early in the morning should be illegal. Why not? They seem to have a law for everything else around here,'_  she mused bitterly as she glanced over the room. It was sterile, smelt of disinfectant, and aside from the badly painted watercolor  _sketch_  hanging near the door there was little in the way of color.

' _Remember, you are the one who agreed to this appointment. You thought it would be early enough to avoid the awkward conversation you'd have with your husband…'_  Her shoulders sagged at the thought. Indeed, she had been more than adamant to schedule the visit before daybreak. She knew that her husband was suspicious when it came to her treatment and prognosis. He had subtly, in his own indifferent way, pestered her to come along on her next visit, but she had refused. She always refused. So, now she had to resort to subterfuge in order to avoid a scene.

She furrowed her brows as she considered his motivations.  _'It is awful. He's just trying to show support.'_  She bit the inside of her bottom lip, and swallowed the lump in her throat.

' _Or, he's just being bratty as usual. Making sure you do as you're told – controlling as he is. Remember the medicine incident? That's when he started to insist that he accompany you to your appointments. He doesn't trust you.'_

Suddenly, she began to feel very warm. Her gut clenched, and a sharp pain radiated out from her stomach. Sweat began to collect on her brow, and her limbs felt heavy and unwieldy. The whole room felt like it was tilting to the left, and whites and metallic silver colors began to swirl together in front of her.

Catching herself, Hisana gripped the edge of the table. She swayed from side to side until she steadied herself using the table as a way to brace her weight. "I feel so tired now," she murmured softly to herself.

"You look tired," a gentle female voice washed over her.

Turning her gaze to the door ahead of her, Hisana narrowed her eyes into a squint. "Captain Unohana?" she murmured, nonplussed by the Captain's presence.

"How are you feeling, Lady Kuchiki? Your blood tests indicate that you're system is strangely out of order. Did you bring the medication prescribed to you by Dr. Kaito?"

Hisana nodded her head tiredly, and shakily lifted a hand to withdraw the satchel she had tucked in her kimono. "This," she said proffering the medicines.

Unohana took the satchel from Hisana and offered the woman a smile. "Good. I want to verify the components here for myself. While I run some tests, I want to give you a few vitamin and electrolyte injections. These should hopefully ease some of your symptoms."

Hisana nodded her head approvingly.

"How is your back healing?" Unohana asked, moving to Hisana's side and gently easing her yukata down to get a glimpse at the wounds.

"They don't look like they've healed a bit," she said softly under her breath.

Hisana turned her head and glanced over at the Captain of the Fourth. Unohana appeared pensive, and her expression was slightly grave as she considered the implications of the wounds.

"If my body isn't able to heal myself, then -" Hisana began tiredly, but lost the interest to complete the sentence. There really was no need to state the obvious. Both of them knew what the stunted healing signified: Hisana did not possess the spirit power necessary to do something as basic as mend a wound. Her entire immune system was now severely compromised. A good chest cold could do her in now.

"We could try infusions," Unohana said, but judging by her expression it seemed unlikely that they would help.

Hisana shrugged her kimono back over her shoulder, and forced a smile. "I would like to maintain my dignity about this matter whatever the treatment may be, Captain."

Unohana nodded her head. "That is understandable, Lady Kuchiki." Wordlessly, the captain began her way toward the door to the room. Before exiting, she turned to Hisana. "Would you like for me to send the report regarding the medicine to the Kuchiki estate?"

Hisana shook her head. "I can pick them up myself."

Unohana tried her best to hide her disapproval with Hisana's decision. "Are you sure? In your state it would be wise to rest."

"Thank you for your concern, but I am sure."

"A nurse will be in shortly. Please, rest. Afterwards, I would like to keep you here an hour or so for observation before releasing you."

Hisana's gaze drifted to the floor. "Of course, Captain."

' _So much for a quick in and out…'_  she could not help but think to herself the moment Unohana left the room.

Feeling more than a little queasy, she scooted back on the examining table and leaned down. Her muscles slowly began to relax, and the pain in her stomach lessened.

All was going well until the nurse showed up. She was proficient and professional, of course, but all Hisana could remember before passing out was the woman inserting the IV.

Regaining consciousness, she fought hard to keep her eyelids from fluttering close. All she could feel was a chill running through her left arm, and the heat against her right hand. She lifted her head up to search the room through half-lidded eyes.

A faint smile lifted the corners of her lips. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured in a croaky voice.

He glanced down at her, and a look of relief crossed his face. "How are you feeling?"

"Drugged," she said, referencing the bag of serum hanging from the IV stand.

He nodded his head sympathetically. "Do you need anything?"

"Stay here with me, please."

"Of course," he said, rubbing some warmth back into her hand.

"How much longer do I have to stay here?"

Byakuya considered her question. Try as he might his mind could not conjure up the pretty assurances he was certain she wanted to hear. All he had was the simple truth. "I do not know," he murmured.

Weakened and struggling to keep her eyes open, Hisana squeezed his hand. "I would like to take my convalescence at the estate if it is possible."

He nodded his head. "Understood."

She managed a half-hearted smile in response.

He could tell that she wanted to drift off to sleep, but she did not want to be bad company for him. Soothingly, he stroked the top of her head. "Rest," he stated firmly.

She sighed at his request, and turned her head to face the wall opposite of her husband. "Do I look that bad?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light and conciliatory.

"You do not look well," he answered matter-of-factly.

' _Always so honest, Lord Byakuya…'_  She turned her attention back to her husband. His hand was still firmly clutching hers even though he was reviewing some forms he kept balanced in his lap. She watched him intently for as long as she could stave off the darkness clawing at her mind.

It was not long before she was in a deep sleep. Byakuya could hear her breathing slow and grow heavy. He glanced up from his paperwork, and observed her. The dark circles around her eyes were a deeper shade of grey than before – giving her eyes a sunken look. Her complexion was blanched, and her skin had a waxy appearance. She seemed so frail, so brittle, resting there. Even breathing looked like an overly burdensome endeavor for her poor broken body.

Byakuya shut his eyes for a moment, and leaned into the back of his chair. It had been a long day, and it seemed that the never-ending day was going to bleed into a longer night. He was tired, and his body felt heavy and tense from sitting still in that rickety wooden chair for what felt like eons.

He kept his eyes close and retreated into himself, meditating. Mediation, however, quickly snowballed into slumber. It was a light sleep, though, for the subtle change in the frequency of the monitoring machines lining the room easily roused him.

His eyes snapped open, and he straightened his ever slouching posture in the chair. As he tried to collect his bearings, the papers in his lap went tumbling onto the floor. The moment the forms hit the tiles they made a muffled scratching sound as they scattered. He heaved an uneasy breath as he reached down to gather the papers.

Neatly stacking them on the nearby nightstand, he examined the room. Something had woken him, but what? One of the machines, he noted to himself. Byakuya gave each of the monitors his full attention. Finding nothing amiss, he furrowed his brows and turned his attention to his wife.

Hisana lay on her back, and her head was turned away from him. She looked so uncomfortable and rigid resting there. Her skin was as pale as the sheets that were pulled tightly across her chest, and judging by the temperature of her hand against his, she was suffering a fever.

Byakuya uncoiled his hand from around hers, and he stood bending over her. With a gentle touch, he cupped her cheek in his hand, and guided her head towards him. He leaned down further and pressed his lips firmly against her forehead to take her temperature.

She was burning up. Her skin was slick with sweat.

"Hisana," he called softly, hoping it would wake her.

She remained unresponsive to his voice.

Taking her wrist in his hand, he withdrew from her, and straightened his posture. With a discerning stare he observed her. Her pulse was weak, and she appeared to be having trouble moving air.

Carefully, he placed her hand back down on the bed, and reached for the "Call" button that was situated to the side of the bed's headboard. It took approximately five minutes for a nurse to reach the room. It took only two more minutes for the area to fall into controlled chaos.

* * *

 

Byakuya was ushered into a waiting room when the infirmary staff began to pour into his wife's room. He was given no explanation regarding the happenings. There were no updates on her status. Hisana was beyond his reach; her life was completely at the mercy of the Fourth Division shinigami.

This was not an experience he particularly liked.

Byakuya was many things, but  _helpless_  was not one of them. He was very proactive when it came to everything: His family, his division, his training. He enjoyed, reveled even, in feeling  _in control_. He was raised to be  _in control_. It was the hardest lesson he had learned from his Grandfather, and to an extent he was still working on being in control of his surroundings.

Right now he was not in control of anything. Well, almost anything, that is. He was still mastering his emotions. At the moment he wasn't feeling much. Shock had set in, numbing everything as it spread from the pit of his stomach to his very thoughts.

Feeling very detached, he sat quietly in a small shrine. How he had gotten to the shrine from the waiting room he knew not. His memory was very blurry, and the specifics had been lost somewhere along the way.

He sat in seiza in front of a small alter. Incense was burning, he noted to himself as the shock began to subside. As the mixture of adrenaline and mental fugue began to wane, he was overwhelmed by a deep tiredness. He felt as if he had been drug behind a cart for a good mile or ten across shards of glass.

"Captain Kuchiki, would you like some tea?"

He stirred, and turned to look at the small orderly standing a few feet from him. She appeared scared senseless, bowed low behind the threshold to the room. Her head hung so low that her face was obscured from his sight.

"Yes." The answer surprised even himself.

The girl immediately lifted her head. Her eyes were bright and large, and she looked excited to be of service. "Yes, sir!" she called.

"My wife – what is her status?" he asked sharply before she had the chance to escape.

The woman lowered her head. "I do not know Lady Kuchiki's condition. I could inquire."

"Inquire," he said tersely before she had the chance to ask the question.

She nodded her head subserviently before taking her leave of him.

It was another hour before he was disturbed again. When the door to the small shrine was opened, however, it was not an orderly that hovered over the threshold to the room. No, it was Captain Unohana that addressed him.

"Lord Kuchiki," she said softly.

Byakuya straightened on hearing her voice. "Captain Unohana," he greeted, turning to face her.

"Go get some rest. You have been up all day and night. You must be exhausted, and you are doing no one any favors staying here."

"How is she?"

Unohana lifted her head, making sure to keep her eyes trained on his. It was not good, he could tell. The sympathetic yet grave look etched into her face confirmed that much.

"Lady Kuchiki is in intensive care right now. She seems to be stabilized for the moment, but her state is very tenuous."

"What is wrong? What is the cause?"

Unohana closed her eyes for a moment, and inhaled a deep breath. "Her spiritual pressure is very weak. Her body is rejecting many of our conventional treatments. We cannot ascertain why. She could have caught something during her travels. Her system may be compromised due to her recent injury."

"What?" Byakuya's brows pulled together. He knew of no recent injury.

"She sustained injuries to her back. You did not know this?"

He averted his piercing gaze to the ground and shook his head.

"Please, go get some rest. It will be some time before she will be allowed visitors, and there is nothing you can do here but worry."

With an abject expression darkening his face, Byakuya reluctantly complied with Unohana's recommendation.

* * *

 

Hisana was situated in the prone position. Her hospital gown was open, and bending over her was a male nurse. His hands hovered a few inches from the wounds stretching across her back. Whatever he was doing felt immensely unpleasant. Prickles of pain radiated from the lacerations. It felt like a thousand tiny ants were marching underneath her skin in no particular direction.

"Huh," she muttered, growing tired with the treatment.

"Is everything okay, Lady Kuchiki?" he asked kindly.

Bracing her weight on her forearms, Hisana lifted her chest off the bed and acknowledged the nurse. "Is it working?" She realized just how petulant the question sounded, but he had been working on those wounds for the better part of an hour. She could tell the young nurse was becoming fatigued and frustrated. Every now and again she could catch him trembling, or, rather she could see the shadow he made on a nearby wall shutter.

"Um," he murmured, pulling his hands away so he could better examine the injury.

The silence that followed confirmed Hisana's suspicions. "It is painful," she offered, hoping it was enough to induce him to stop.

He nodded his head, and helped tie her hospital gown.

Feeling the nurse finishing the tie on her gown, Hisana turned around, and leaned her back against the incline of the bed.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, cleaning his supplies.

"Much better," she said trying her best to sound ebullient.

He responded with a warm albeit  _knowing_  smile. "That's what we like to hear."

"I poured it on a little thick, no?" She smiled wryly.

He nodded his head. "A little," he teased, "but I understand your desire to be discharged."

"When do you think I'll be able to go home?"

"In a day or two at the most."

A wide grin split her lips at the reply. "That's what you said a week ago," she joked.

"Rest, Lady Hisana," he instructed gently, "and get your strength back, and then we'll see about you leaving."

Hisana nodded her head, and watched him begin out the door.

"I'll be back in a few hours to take your vitals again."

"I know," she sighed.

He bowed politely before leaving.

Hisana relaxed against the pillows of the bed. She had finally been released into one of the standard rooms. It had been her first "good" day. "Good" in this sense, however, was a relative adjective. Specifically, it was the first day that she had been able to maintain consciousness for more than an hour.

She had not seen her husband since her first night in the infirmary. But, as she glanced over at the nightstand, her husband's thoughts were clearly noted for stationed on the bedside furniture was a lovely flower arrangement.

' _Bellflowers,'_  she observed with a lazy smile.

"How are you?"

She startled at the sound of the voice. Her gaze shot over to the door to see her husband standing there. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured breezily.

"You will be discharged tomorrow," he said, drawing close.

She smiled, and lifted her hand out beseechingly for his. "I've missed you."

He took her hand, and shot her an incredulous look. "I don't think you were cognizant enough to miss much," he said sardonically.

"There were  _moments_ ," she retorted, watching him drag a chair close to her bed.

"I had moments as well," he teased.

"I don't think I've ever seen you joke before, Lord Kuchiki."

He took a seat and then focused his attention on her. "You look like you are feeling better," he said, his voice hitting a more serious note.

"I look better, huh? That's comforting. I feel like hell, though. I'm glad I get to come home tomorrow. However did you manage that one?"

A lopsided grin turned a corner of his mouth upward. "Confidential."

Her lips split into a wide smile. "Coy much?"

He squeezed her hand tight. "Rest. You need your strength."

She nodded her head, and before shutting her eyes she placed her other hand on top of his. "Thank you for everything," she said dreamily.


	27. The Chain of Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a friendly warning that this chapter is a little M-ish. There is nothing particularly explicit so I'm not bumping the overall rating up. It is Couple's Time, however, and there is implied nudity.

Hisana pulled her arms tightly around her chest. Sitting bare, the air in the room chilled her damp skin, eliciting a shiver. Every muscle fiber in her body tightened, snapping into a rigid position, and on occasion she found herself holding her breath. What should have been a welcomed experience was anything but.

She was wet, cold, and felt far too vulnerable than she cared to admit. Any shred of dignity she had latched onto during her many years was being painfully ripped away. Even her one guilt-free luxury, her baths, was now invaded by illness.

Hisana enjoyed her nightly baths a bit more than was healthy she presumed. It was the only ritual in which she gladly partook. With a scratchy rag, she would scrub and lather her body as thoroughly as possible, and then rinse on the bathing stool. Then, she would soak in a nice steamy bath. It was so therapeutic. No matter how badly her day went – no matter how sick or tired or guilt-ridden she felt – the bath at the end of it held the promise of cleansing the negativity from her soul even if it was just for an hour. For a few fleeting moments she could shelf all the nagging concerns the day brought, and she could finally find peace. She could relax.

At the moment, however, relaxation eluded her. Seated stiffly on the bathing stool, she felt a warm wet cloth sweep across her back. The coarse material moved rhythmically up and down her spine. The pressure was light and gentle around the lacerations that marked her.

Hugged herself tighter now than before, she leaned hunched over her cold legs. The soft film of lather and the tactile sensation of cloth against skin should have comforted her. Instead the sensation felt grating, and numbed her in the most unpleasant way possible. The sweet aroma of the floral scented soap which was meant to sooth and calm only worked to assault her sense of smell.

"Relax," Byakuya commanded from behind her. Despite his directness, his voice was equal measures soft and firm.

Hisana felt every proverbial string in her body snap into place in response. Her shoulders pulled closer together, and a worried look clouded her face. Even her toes curled in stubborn reply.

Without as much as a word, she was telegraphing her anxiety loud and clear.

Byakuya observed his wife's quiet distress, and leaned closer in hopes of assuaging it. With a feather-light touch, he ran his wet hands across the back of her shoulders. Her pale skin was soft and slick to the touch. Skimming the sides of her arms, he gently molded her into a more open posture.

Biting her lip, Hisana yielded to his movements. Sitting ramrod straight, her body did not unwind. If possible she was more on edge than before. Reaching for what little composure that still resided within her, she lifted her head, and trained her gaze on the wall in front of her. Her top teeth scraped across her lower lip, and she inhaled a deep breath.

Byakuya wringed the cloth, watching the excess water cascade down her back. He considered her condition with a penetrating stare. Under the harsh lighting of the wash room, the illness that clothed her only became more apparent. Her body, once soft in form, was now all harsh lines – like too little flesh scraped over too much frame. The protrusions of bone under her skin were more noticeable now than ever before. So tightly her skin hugged the skeleton underneath, he could count every vertebrae and rib.

She was a perfect study in anatomy but for all the wrong reasons. His heart sank.

"Is this uncomfortable for you?" he asked, finally deciding to address her distance.

Hisana turned her head to the side, and shot him a sidelong stare. She appeared worn and disconcerted if not slightly embarrassed that he was bathing her. He had seen that expression before – it was the same look his soldiers got when they had been bested by an easy foe on the field. It was the look that signaled a loss of dignity.

Seeing the lines of her husband's face fall into a frown, Hisana forced a small smile. It was obvious her heart was not in the gesture, but it was all she could offer him in the way of comfort. There was no need to fully express her displeasure with her situation. Her husband was no fool; he knew. Hiding it, however, proved to be an immensely difficult and complicated task for she was unsure of her reasons for her feelings.

She did enjoy his company, and it was not as if she had not shared a bath with him before. It was just…

The terrible memory of days past played with stunning clarity in her mind's eye. The look of disgust - or was it repulsion?—when he saw her withered form for the first time. The recollection was so vivid she almost could see his face twist at the mere sight of her. Some deep-seated part of her knew that it was not revulsion that adorned his face when he saw her that day; it was fear. That part of her, however, was cleverly buried under mountains of insecurity. She was disgusted with herself, and thus, by extension of her loathing, so was he.

It made sense in only the most irrational way possible as these things often do.

Hisana opened her mouth to speak, but the words, unsaid, were squelched by the mounting tension that resided in the room. Both of them sat there wanting to say something,  _anything_ , but unsure of the proper way to acknowledge their feelings. It was all so terribly awkward in the most callow way possible. They were behaving more like juveniles on a first date rather than a married couple of five years. Realizing this, Hisana broke the silence with a chuckle.

Cupping her mouth with a wet hand, she turned to see her husband's startled visage. Byakuya's eyes were wide with surprise, and his lips pulled into a straight line. "I'm not mad," she countered jokingly, having astutely read his thoughts.

He turned his gaze to the floor. "I never said you were," he murmured sheepishly.

"Change positions with me," she said turning around on the stool. "Come, come."

He's brows furrowed as he considered the offer. "Are you sure you're -"

She cut him off with a dismissive smile. "I'm just going to wash your back, not climb Mount Fuji," she teased.

Tentatively, Byakuya switched positions with his wife. His body was tense with anticipation of feeling the warm cloth against him. The muscles of his back tightened under his milky skin. Readying the cloth, Hisana studied him thoroughly under the bright bathroom light. She rarely had the time (or proper lighting) to fully admire him. Her admiration, however, went beyond that of simple lust. She considered just how much training it took for him to reach and maintain his physique. Byakuya was prone to vanity, she was sure, but his health was a result of necessity to perform a job - not a need to please others. (Although, he managed the latter just fine.) Indeed his body was a finely honed tool that was essential for his survival.

Her face heated at the thought of just how dangerous he was. And, for a fanciful moment, she wondered if that was why many women were so enamored by her husband. He was wealthy, influential, handsome, and dangerous.

She smiled at the thought. The members of the Shinigami Women's Association still had a way of pestering her about details on her husband. The women approached her respectfully enough, but it was still a little disconcerting that he held the attention of so many attractive, powerful women.

With the last musing, a pang of jealousy jolted her from her thoughts. Remembering what exactly it was she was doing, she glanced up to find herself comfortably pressed against his back. Somewhere along the way her arms had linked around his waist.

' _He looks comfortable,'_  she noted, feeling the muscles of his back slacken against her cheek.

Catching her husband subtly looking over his shoulder to check on her, she quickly untangled her arms from around him and pulled away. She inhaled a deep breath in an attempt to stave off the tingling sensation welling deep inside her chest. Clenching the washcloth tightly in her hand, she pressed the material against his skin.

Immediately, he jolted forward in response and shot gave her a heated sidelong glare.

Trying her best to appear contrite, she looked up at him with wide eyes and rosy cheeks. "I didn't realize it had gotten so cold," she said meekly, and held up the cloth in her defense. Pressing her lips tightly together, she swallowed the urge to laugh from embarrassment, and began anew this time with a nice  _warm_  cloth.

Slowly, she dragged the material across his skin, watching each movement he made in response to her touch. A wistful smile lengthened her lips as she cleaned him. She liked repaying his kindness with whatever little thing she could. It was never enough, she chided herself, but at least it was  _something_.

Unthinkingly she asked, "Do you think we met before in a previous lifetime?" It was an absurd question, she admitted to herself in retrospect. But it came out so naturally that her better judgment had not the time to kick in and stop her.

Byakuya turned his head so he could see her from over his shoulder. A deep shade of pink tinted her cheeks, and her face had tightened into a slight wince. She was clearly waiting for him to deride her with either words or silence.

For a moment, he thought the question over in his head. It was a legitimate one. Reincarnation did occur. But, the idea of soul-mates always rubbed him as too maudlin to be true. Then, there was the fact that with all the souls and distance that existed in Soul Society and the World of the Living meeting anyone more than once or twice would be exceedingly rare.

For a moment he considered the possible responses. "Yes" would have been a lie – a comforting lie – but she would have resented him for it. "No" just came off sounding too terse and dismissive in his head. It likely would not have a positive effect on the situation. So, he settled on indecision. "I don't know." It was true if nothing more.

Hisana inclined her gaze to meet his. She knew he was trying to spare her feelings. "You're too kind," she murmured, "It does seem doubtful, doesn't it? I mean, locating one soul here in Soul Society is nearly impossible even if you know where it is they're supposed to be."

"But, fate works differently than intention," he noted in a softened voice. "We were worlds apart before we met."

She smiled up at him; it was a bittersweet look on her face. "But, you're a shinigami now," she said in a low, almost indiscernible tone.

A quiet sadness lingered between the two with those words. It was unspoken, but they both knew what it meant – that this was it. If the string of fate even existed and connected the two together, the connection would be forever severed by his death.

Byakuya averted his gaze to the tiles glistening with water below him. "Hisana," he muttered, catching her attention.

"Yes?" she answered, placing the cloth down.

Byakuya bent down and cupped her cheek with his hand. Feeling his breath on her, Hisana shut her eyes and moved closer. Their lips brushed chastely together until he leaned forward to deepen the kiss.

The kiss was not a passionate one, but rather it was searching in execution. Her right arm wrapped around his neck, and she could feel his arms snake around her waist, narrowing what little distance still separated the two.

Breaking away he murmured a soft, "You're cold." He ran his hands down her arms in a half-hearted attempt at restoring warmth to her body.

Dreamily, she gazed into his face; her lips stretched into a lopsided grin. "You're not," she said in a coy voice.

Taking her hand in his, he helped her up, and gently guided her to the bathtub. He stepped into the tub first. Once in, he tugged on her arm. She mindlessly followed his lead until the two were comfortably situated in the tub.

The water was scalding hot, leaving the skin tinted pink on contact. But for Hisana it took only a few moments for the temperature to transition from unwelcoming to therapeutic. Sinking into the deep tub, she exhaled a deep breath; her breathing became heavy and slow. Her entire body unwound; the warmth from the liquid soothed her, comforted her. It had been a long time since she had felt the wave of tranquility wash over her.

Not realizing that she had closed her eyes upon settling into the bath, she cracked open an eye to see the tangle of limbs the two had become. An easy smile thinned her lips as she observed their strange positioning. He sat behind her with his arms snaked under hers. His embrace had been tight at first, but with each passing moment his muscles relaxed, and his hold loosened.

Caressingly, she ran her fingertips across the apex of his knee and down the top of his thigh. Instinctively, he moved from under her, clearly perturbed by her touch. Her smile broadened at his response.  _'Such a gentleman,'_  she thought slyly to herself.

"How are you feeling?" he murmured against her hair.

Normally, she hated the question, but as his breath lightly ghosted across the top of her ear she melted further against his chest. It was all in the execution, she mused.

Closing her eyes, she hummed a belated reply, "Good."

"Your injuries are not healing," he said this time in a clearer tone. "I know of a place where the water possesses a purifying quality."

She turned her head, and glanced up at her husband through half-lidded eyes. His face was still, and his eyes stared quietly down into hers. He appeared quite sincere in whatever it was he was plotting.

"Yes," she urged in a breathy voice.

"I should take-" Feeling her mouth lightly inching along his jaw-line, he paused, distracted.

Reaching his earlobe, she whispered a soft, "Yes." The moment the breath left her mouth she could feel his entire body stiffen under hers. She knew that his every restraint was quickly snapping into place like invisible shackles that prevented him from responding.

He could be so predictable.

Sensing that he was holding his breath, she pulled away to get a better view of him. He sat with a rather menacing look of repose. His eyes were shut, his jaws were clenched, and his lips were pulled into a straight line.

Teasingly, she wiggled free of his almost nonexistent grasp. She turned to face him, and ran her hands over his chest. She took a moment to enjoy the feel of smooth skin gliding under her hands. With a feather-light touch, her palms trailed along his broad shoulders until her hands met at the back of his neck. Her fingers instinctively laced together, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

It was almost cruel, she knew, but sometimes her husband proved to be such an easy target. It did not take much to disturb him at times, she mused, drawing closer against his neck. "You were saying?" she asked innocently; her lips a taunting hairsbreadth away from his neck.

A warm frustration surged through him as he glanced down at her. Seeing a satisfied smile curling the corners of her lips upward, he narrowed his eyes. She  _knew_  she was being distracting. It was  _intentional_.

"The water may help mend your wound," he muttered in a hardened voice.

Lifting her head up enough to reach his ear, she whispered a soft, "You should take me there some time."

"Hisana," he began in a firm voice, "you need your rest."

She glanced up to find her husband glaring down on her with a piercing stare. He was reading her, and she had a sinking feeling that her plot had been easily exposed. Not that she minded.

"I'm feeling well." It wasn't a total lie on her part for at the moment she felt very well indeed.

"Your body needs to be taken care of."

"I would say that it does." She smirked at his reasoning. Those words had become a customary part of their day. He would beg her to take better care of herself, and she would try to heed his advice to the best of her ability. (Which was never to his liking.)

Byakuya's brows knitted together, and he shot her a stern look. His face conveyed his worriment loud and clear.

Her eyelids fell, and her grin faded into an understanding smile. "Please," she murmured, inclining her head to press her lips gently against his cheek, "it's the only thing I can do for you," she said between kisses.

He shook his head. "His-" His lips smacked shut the moment he felt a hand travel down the side of his torso, stopping on the top of his thigh.

"You've done so much for me. I just want to-" She couldn't finish it. She was unable to find the right words to fully express herself. She wanted to make him feel as valuable to her as he managed to make her feel. But, she also did not want him to think this was some sort of perverse  _duty_  in which she derived no pleasure in performing.

He watched her, waiting for her to finish. His eyes were dark and dilated, and his hands were trailing up her back. His fingers felt like a little flames licking across her skin as they sunk into the silky flesh underneath. Her breath hitched in her throat, and her body slackened under the pressure of his hands against her back.

Feeling her body sliding down against him, she quickly adjusted her posture. Her knees were now on either side of his, pushed fast against the hard wooden bottom of the tub, and her chest pressed hard against his.

Keeping the position, however, proved to be rather difficult for it required some measure of tautness to achieve the desired effect. But, her body gravitated toward his like a magnet. She felt drugged. The warmth of the water and the feeling of his body against hers proved to be an intoxicating combination, leaving her body limp and heavy with hunger. Longingly, she buried her head against his neck, and inhaled a deep breath. His natural scent mixed nicely with the fragrance of the bath oils, she observed dreamily.

"Lord Byakuya," she murmured.

The vibration of her mouth sent a small chill through him. Every fiber in his body tensed, and his fingers, heavy against her back, moved up and fisted her dark tresses. With a painless yank on her hair, he pulled her head back.

"Bya-" she gasped enticingly.

Pressing his mouth firmly against hers, her lips fell silent.

Prickles of desire ghosted up and down her spine, and her body melted against his. So close the two were she could feel the strong beat of his heart against her chest. The rhythm of his pulse penetrated her, sending her into a dizzying spiral. The world felt like it had tilted on its axis and was spinning out of control.

Byakuya broke off the kiss, and pulled her into a tight embrace. "Are you feeling-"

"I'm not on my deathbed yet," she interrupted. Her hands cupped the sides of his face, and she smiled sweetly. "It's all I have to offer." Her voice was soft, and trembled under the weight of an uneasy truth.

He watched her through cautious eyes. He was still, so still, but his eyes betrayed his battling thoughts. She was ill, and her body weak. She needed to go to bed. But…

His thoughts, once so focused on seeing to her rest, drifted the instant he felt the pressure of her lips against his own; her tongue nudging into his mouth. His heart sped in his chest, and he closed his eyes for a moment, relishing in the feel of her body pressed so tightly against his. He wanted to capture her in his memory; etch it into his brain for safe-keeping…

Running his hands down her arms, he felt the tactile sensation of her silky skin burn its way into his mind. Her body was small yet wiry. Her lips soft and hot, and her mouth eager against his own. Unthinkingly, his hand traversed the small expanse that was her back up to her neck where his fingers gathered in her hair. "Hisana," he moaned, breaking away from her.

His lips parted, ready for speach, but no words escaped him. It was clear his defenses were crumbling. He was tired, and there was a sadness residing deep within him. Was it possible to grieve for the living?

Reading her husband's expression, Hisana's hands dropped from his face and moved to the tops of his shoulders. She could still feel his grip on her; it was tight and wanting, but he appeared torn - desiring two very different things.

A small smile played across her lips, and she nuzzled her cheek lightly against his. "Let's go to bed," she said in a heavy breath against his ear.

His breathing slowed, and she could feel his shoulders twitch under her hands.

She pulled away, and met his gaze. Separating, the air around them ran its chilly fingers across their damp skin. Even the water had lost its steam, and had become lukewarm in the process, making the warmth generated by their bodies feel all the more inviting.

Watching her, staring into her longing gaze, he lifted his head. Tempted to say "no", he opened his mouth but he couldn't make the sound. Instead, he gave a simple nod of his head. "Bed," he muttered sluggishly in spite of himself.

Hisana's eyes brightened, and she replied with a chaste smile, knowing all too well that he had given into her.


	28. The Little Things

Soft sheets pulled tightly across her shoulders. Her dark tresses were splayed across the white pillow, and a satisfied smile thinned her lips. Blinking back the sleep from her eyes, Hisana awoke to the gentle singing of birds and a breeze wafting into the bedroom from the open doors leading to the garden. The sticky humidity of the air and the brightness of the morning sun announced summer's brilliant arrival.

Hisana preferred spring but summer would suffice in its place. At least the trees and gardens were full of flora, and the weather was more suitable for traveling than winter's harshness or spring's fickleness.

Unthinkingly, she ran her hand across her husband's chest. She rested her head against his shoulder; her body was molded around his. It was so nice to wake up next to someone else. Usually when she woke up he had already left her side. And, as the illness set into the sinews and marrow of her body, lucidity was rapidly becoming a luxury for Hisana. Her travels to Rukongai had ceased. Now, her search for her sister was reduced to intermittent communication with the various contacts she had made along the way.

It was not the same, but it was all that was afforded to her.

"How are you feeling?"

Startled by Byakuya's deep intonations, Hisana's eyes quickly flitted up to meet his gaze. Her heart pounded fast and hard in her chest, and her breath caught halfway up her throat. At a loss for words, she merely smiled her response.

"You appeared pensive," he murmured matter-of-factly.

"No, I was just enjoying the moment." Her voice was creaky from hours of disuse and a parched mouth. "I was enjoying myself," she added, tilting her head upward.

Byakuya's features soften in response. While the words were never spoken, Hisana could feel her husband's joy at hearing those sentiments.

Warmed by his nearness, she sank into the rare feeling of contentedness and she closed her eyes. She tucked her arm against his, and whispered a soft, "I'm glad you are still here."

He buried his face in her hair, and inhaled a deep breath. "I wish I could stay," he murmured. His hot breath quickly heated her scalp, sending a pleasured shiver down her back.

"Lord Byakuya," she began hesitantly, "would you make me promise?" She opened her eyes to see him staring obligingly down at her. She opened her mouth, but her chest clenched at the thought of what she was going to ask of him. Her lips closed, and she locked her jaws into a pained smile.

Byakuya silently implored her to continue, but all she could do was shake her head in response. "Never mind," she muttered, chiding herself for even entertaining the thought. "It was just a fleeting musing – nothing of consequence."

' _I could not possibly ask him to do that. It would be sinful after all he has done for me. It would be too cruel.'_  A look of contrition quickly twisted her expression; her brows lowered and knitted together, and her lips pursed.

' _But, it would be an honest – a pragmatic – request.'_  She pressed her lips firmly together as she weighed the consequences of her appeal.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he probed gently.

She glanced up at him and feigned another smile. "Not right now."

Seeing worry-lines begin to crease his face, Hisana suddenly digressed. "I do have some information to divulge, however."

After a few moments imbued with great uncertainty Byakuya encouraged her to continue with an even, "Yes?"

"I don't think you will be happy with me," she murmured, wincing as she spoke the words.

His entire body tensed against hers. Great intensity shone in his eyes as he gazed down on her. The question, "What is it?" was clearly written across his face.

"It is the Shinigami Women's Association," she began, cringing at the feeling of the organization's name on her tongue. It felt like her tongue had just swollen two sizes in her mouth.

Relief quickly assuaged Byakuya's alarm the moment he heard the words "Shinigami Women's Association" leave his wife's mouth. It was not long afterward that his expression of release quickly melted into an incredulous stare. More precisely, a hardened incredulous stare.

Hisana cocked her head to the side, and she tried her best to maintain a mien of innocence. "Well," she said, clearing her throat, "they were very persistent." Her voice soon drifted into a soft incoherence.

His eyes narrowed into a piercing glare. While his expression stopped just short of "menacing", it was clear that he was not amused in the slightest.

Drawing her shoulder up defensively in front of her chin, Hisana scrunched her face, and cringed. "They only wanted a short one-time interview."

He immediately opened his mouth in protest, but Hisana was quick to interrupt his attempt.

"They said that they would record the interview on this thing called a ' _radio cassette player_ ' and that after they transcribed the conversation they would give me a ' _tape_ ' as evidence should anything they print be," she paused, trying her best to rationalize why exactly she had agreed to this, "well, you know,  _questionable_."

" _Questionable_?" he repeated in a sharp monotone.

She nodded her head, hoping against hope that the more she nodded the better it would make the situation. "You don't look livid," she noted softly.

"It hasn't set in yet."

A wide grin cracked her lips at his retort. She could sense that he was somewhat flattered by the attention – even if he would adamantly deny it otherwise. "Don't worry," she started in a breathy voice, "I won't tell them anything unflattering."

Byakuya's brows instantly fell at the insinuation that there was anything  _"unflattering"_  about him to reveal.

Fully expecting his reaction, Hisana gave a small chuckle and shook her head. "Sometimes you're too easy," she teased, leaning over him and stealing a small kiss on the lips.

"So there is no interview?" he asked, somewhat confused.

Peeling the mountain of blankets and sheets from around her, Hisana sat up and gave him a sidelong glance. "Oh, no, there really is an interview."

Mischievously, he yanked her back down to the futon.

"You looked almost depressed at the prospect that I had just made it up," she joked, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Twelve-o'-clock came with alarming quickness. Twelve-o'-clock was the time they had set for the interview. Hisana was a little on edge as she sat there surrounded by three other women. The shinigami formed a small semi-circle around her. Shiny, bright, youthful faces stared at her with their equally shiny, bright, and youthful eyes.

Hisana sometimes envied the female shinigami. She never really knew their names or kept up with the gossip as regarded the female reapers. She only remembered a few (and often faceless) names, and she caught fleeting glimpses of them when she took her walks. They were really remarkable, she had to admit.

Scanning the faces of the representatives, she smiled wistfully as she met each woman's gaze. They were all full of spirit and gusto, and as per the requirements of shinigami-hood all of the women were sound of body and mind. They literally emitted a glow of health about them as they leaned closer to Hisana.

Hisana's small forced smile slowly lengthened into a genuine look of amusement. It appeared that her envy wasn't entirely one-sided. Like children waiting for mother to tell them a good bedtime story, the shinigami's attention were glued on her.

All stiffness and tension quickly melted from Hisana's shoulders. Her once trembling body warmed, and the fluttering in her stomach diminished. This was not the interview she had been expecting.  _Interview_ , at least to Hisana, meant rigid formality, picture-perfect posture, appropriate responses, and much humility. She had been  _interviewed_  to be the Lady of the Kuchiki house. She had been  _interviewed_  at a good number of the Family meetings. She had  _interviewed_  a few of the staff members at the manor.

Naturally, interviews summoned an intensely bad mental image for Hisana. This, however, was not an  _interview;_ it was "girl time". And, while Hisana had never really experienced "girl time" as she had spent the majority of her life either desperately trying to survive or being the Lady of one of the Great Noble Families, she had a feeling that it was a little more light-hearted and enjoyable than being interviewed. It was at this realization that she felt every tense string in her body slacken, and she inhaled a deep breath.

She was far from a meditative state, mind you. She still could not deny the burn of the three sets of eyes on her, nor could she push away the nagging anxiety that accompanied being front and center. But, this situation was preferable to being  _judged_  and rated. If anyone was being evaluated in this "interview" it was going to be her husband. She was merely the proxy for him, and she was more than comfortable with that. Speaking on the topic of her husband was something she could easily do and rather enjoyed.

"So, are we going to get this interview going?" the petite shinigami to Hisana's left asked in a commanding intonation. The woman clearly was the unofficial leader on this mission.

"Yeah, I have the recorder here!" the busty strawberry blonde seated on Hisana's right side chirped. For a few moments she fished inside her robes, and from some secret compartment of her uniform she withdrew a rather bulky-looking device.

Hisana's brows lowered as she examined the instrument. It was gunmetal grey, and there were a few square buttons on the front of the machine. Wordlessly, she watched as the shinigami placed the recorder on a nearby table; she then depressed a button which elicited a metallic hiss, and the machine's top rose.

"The tape should be good to go," she hummed sonorously, plucking out a rectangular black item from the recorder. She brought the tape up to her face so she could examine it carefully. "Yep, it's a go," she noted confidently. With a flick of her wrist, the tape was back into the recorder.

"Record," she announced, fingering a large green button.

"Good. We don't need to waste Lady Kuchiki's time," the petite shinigami with the dark hair ordered.

"Oh, please forgive our manners, Lady Kuchiki. We have yet to formally introduce ourselves!" the well-endowed one exclaimed in an effervescent tone. "I'm Rangiku Matsumoto, in case you've forgotten. This here is Captain Soifon," she said gesturing to the woman on Hisana's left, "and last but not least this is Vice Captain Nanao Ise."

Hisana acknowledged each woman with a small smile and bow of her head. "It is very good," she greeted softly.

Rangiku leaned forward, clearly directing her attention and voice to the recorder. "Okay, let it go on record that the parameters for this exclusive interview have been set: A one-on-er-  _three_  with Lady Kuchiki. We get three minutes to ask her the most personal, deepest, most profound-"

"Rangiku!" the other two shinigami interrupted; both shooting her chastising glares. Nanao even went as far as to adjust her glasses; her fingers itching to remove them should her friend decide to not comply with the unspoken order.

"Alright, alright," she sighed, "Well, shall we begin?" Rangiku asked politely deferring to Hisana.

Hisana quietly nodded her head.

The Captain was the first one to jump in with a question. "Where did the two of you meet?"

Hisana perked up at the commanding nature of the woman's inquiry. Soifon's face related this unspeakable intensity as if she was probing for some deep and crucial information.  _'It's like she's ready for an interrogation._ '

Hisana shook the observation aside and answered, "We met in Rukongai."

"What are Captain Kuchiki's favorite pastimes?" Nanao asked, studiously poised over the notepad in her lap. When she looked up to make eye-contact with Hisana, the lenses of her glasses caught the sun rays coming from a close by open door.

The glare reflected from the spectacles temporarily blinded Hisana. "Ugh," she murmured, trying to avert her gaze and collect her thoughts. After a few moments of disarray, she began. "Lord Kuchiki enjoys his nightly walks. He also likes to read and to practice his calligraphy in his spare time." Blinking back a few sun spots from her vision, she thought she recovered rather well.

A small smile tugged at the corner of Nanao's lips. It was clear the question on her mind was too irresistible to keep to herself. "What type of books does Captain Kuchiki most enjoy?

Hisana leaned forward in her seat. "I catch him reading books on strategy and history mostly. He does enjoy poetry as well."

"Ooh, they say one can learn a lot about a man by the things he eats! So, what is Captain Kuchiki's favorite food?" Rangiku asked, pressing her hand against Hisana's.

"That's easy," she said with an impish smile, "anything spicy." Unwittingly, she blushed at her response.

"Oh," Rangiku responded, drawing out the "ooo" sound longer than necessary. If possible, you could actually see the wheels in blonde's head spinning. "Well, that's very telling." She lifted a brow, and a mischievous grin quickly followed.

The pink in Hisana's cheek immediately intensified to a bright red at the insinuation. "He also dislikes all things sweet," she murmured, trying her best to temper the intensity of the heat that was rushing to her face.

"Let it be known that the Lady is blushing," Rangiku cooed into the recorder. "It is so cute! She's still blushing after five years of marriage."

Hisana pressed her lips together, pulled her shoulders close to her ears, and cringed with embarrassment. "Um, any other questions?" she said sheepishly, hoping to digress.

Hisana didn't quite catch who asked the next question. It sounded like it came from her left so it was either the Captain or Ise. "Favorite flower?"

Pensively, she turned her gaze to the ceiling, and placed her index finger to her lips. "That's a good question. You know, I'm not really sure. I know the garden is filled with chrysanthemums, but I catch him admiring the Chinese bellflowers the most. I think he likes the bellflowers. "

"What is the thing you wished more people knew about your husband?" This time it was definitely Nanao, Hisana noted, glancing over at the woman as she prepared her response.

"He's really warm-hearted." Her response quickly elicited incredulous looks all around. Clearly, there was explaining that needed to be done in order for her to get her point across. "I know he cuts a cool image, but that is just his," her voice trailed as she decided on another descriptive. She  _wanted_  to accuse his upbringing for his chilly demeanor, but that felt like a copout, or at least, she did not think it would endear her to the Family. "That's just his way of processing everything," she began again, "He is a very rational man. He likes to keep a level head, and, well, that does not always engender a reputation for being warm, but he is. He just goes about it very logically."

The threesome still did not look like they were totally sold on Byakuya being a closeted bunny-hugging-do-gooder. At the very least, that angle definitely would not sell papers or memorabilia. Part of the Kuchiki charm was his "I'm above reproach" austerity. On top of him being married, his attitude made him completely unreachable and therefore unattainable to most women. This secured a feeling of courtly love among the female shinigami – a girl could be enamored by him without worrying about actually being considered as a consort. The whole performance factor was totally a non-issue with him. (Unless, of course, you were one of his subordinates in which case the performance in question was of a different variety.)

"Is he a good lover?" Rangiku piped up from her seat. Before she had the chance to get the question out, she was met with looks from her comrades that could scorch the skin right off the bone. Immediately, she amended the question, "Take that as you may, Lady Hisana."

Feeling the sting of diffidence burn her cheeks, she smiled nervously before she found her voice. "He is a good _husband_ ," she murmured slyly.

"Any examples?" Soifon asked astutely.

Hisana slightly threw her head back, and gave a small giggle. "Oh, there are really too many. I think putting up with my idiosyncrasies makes him a bodhisattva for sure."

"How is," before Rangiku got out her question a small beeping sound interrupted her. "Oh, no, there goes the timer. Blah."

"Go on. Finish your question, then, we can be done," Hisana urged kindly.

"Thank you, Lady Kuchiki. I was going to ask you about the manor before Nanao's timer over there so rudely interrupted."

"It is really large!" Hisana chuckled. "I still get lost sometimes."

"Oh, no! Really? How do you find your way out?"

"Sometimes I just look at how the tatami mats are laid out on the floor. That usually works."

"Well, so concludes our exclusive interview with Lady Kuchiki!" Rangiku called into the recorder before thumping down the red button on the machine.

"Thank you, Lady Kuchiki," Nanao said, bowing as she stood.

"Yes, thank you for your time and energy," the Captain murmured politely.

Hisana immediately took to her feet, and gave a bow. "Thank you for having me. I hope the interview helps the organization in some way," she said moving toward the door to the room. The three shinigami closely trailed behind her.

"It definitely will, Lady Kuchiki. Captain Kuchiki is immensely popular with both sexes here!" Rangiku said.

Hisana's eyes widened momentarily – clearly, taken aback by the remark. "Well, goodness, I hope it is for different reasons," she joked shyly, "otherwise I don't know if I'll be able to outlast the competition!" She smiled knowingly at the three women before lowering her head slightly in her final goodbye.


	29. The Full Number

"EXCLUSIVE INTERVIEW WITH THE SHINIGAMI WOMEN'S ASSOCIATION – pg. 10E"

There it was – the  _interview_. The announcement was splashed in bold across the front page of the newspaper. Byakuya lifted his chin and clenched his jaws reflexively as he stared at the blurb. The thick black ink against grey newsprint paper appeared to be mocking him; it dared him to flip to page ten.

Lifting his head and inhaling a breath, he struggled to find his resolve. His patented "I'm above all of this" expression quickly stretched across his face. He was better than this mere  _trifle_ , he thought to himself. This was gossip that had been somewhat legitimized by his poor trusting wife. At the thought of Hisana's complicity in this farce, Byakuya panned the cavernous room to find his wife seated chastely in the corner. Her hands were busy molding flowers in an appropriate fashion.

Surely, she had no idea how wily the female shinigami of Soul Society could be. How those  _women_  could twist words and intentions until they no longer resembled their original selves. No, she was blissfully unaware of the more sinister forms of feminine caprice.

The article was nothing more than a gossip column. This observation made him wonder why the Ninth Division would allow its newspaper to be sullied with such garbage. The  _Seireitei News_  was now bordering on tabloid levels of impropriety, he huffed inwardly.

Yet, despite this very long and unseemly inner dialogue, Byakuya could not shake the desire to  _read_  it. His fingers itched at the corner of the paper to turn it to the specified page. For a few unflattering moments of indecision, he fumbled with the thin pages. The scratching noises he was making were amplified in the capacious chamber. What he interpreted as a resounding crackle, however, did not appear to disturb his wife from her ikebana.

Byakuya inhaled a sharp cold breath, and held it for a moment as he considered his options. He was almost positive that he would not approve of the information contained in the interview. He was also quite sure that when he read it he would experience a burning and irrational desire to apprehend every copy of the paper in existence and use it as fuel to heat future baths.

In truth, he could not think of a single constructive reason  _why_  it would do him good to read the article. Perhaps it was because the con list so far exceeded the pros that he decided that he just  _had_  to turn to page ten E. With a deliberate yank, he unfurled the paper to Section E and quickly flipped to page ten.

His eyes widened and his jaw slackened at the sight he saw. He could hardly believe himself as he lowered his head closer to the newsprint to inspect the article, or, in his case,  _lack_ of article. A perfect rectangle of where the interview was supposed to be had been clipped from the paper. Byakuya moved the paper a little to his right, and staring out of the small rectangle he eyed his wife with the most menacing glower his astonished features could muster.

Hisana stiffened the moment she felt the heat of Byakuya's eyes against her back. She bit fast against her bottom lip and winced. She was relatively sure that she had been found out. Coyly, she slightly cocked her head to the left and glanced over her right shoulder. Her gaze beckoned him to reproach her for her duplicity. Instead, Byakuya just stared out through the clipped portion of the newspaper. It was clear that he was considering what reaction would be appropriate given the circumstances. He had been discovered by his wife, so the only response accorded to him was that of indignation.

"How do you like it?" she asked politely gesturing to her flower arrangement. Her voice was stilted and cracked with uncertainty.

Byakuya ignored her question in favor of one of his own. "What is this?"

Hisana forced a sheepish smile, and with raised eyebrows she shrugged her response. "It appears your paper is defective."

A sharp crackle filled her ears as her husband tightly folded the paper in half. He did not appear convinced. His brows hung low over narrowed eyes, and Hisana could hardly escape the pointed stare he was directing at her. Wordlessly, his face commanded her to give him a very convincing explanation for her action.

"Oh, come now. You really wanted to read an article about yourself?" she began meekly.

His expression softened as the sting of embarrassment set into his sinews. It was unspoken on her part, but Byakuya could definitely feel a judgment had been made regarding his vanity. He snorted his response, and cocked a brow at the insinuation.

"The article was really pretty flattering, in case you were wondering," she responded, hoping to smooth any ruffled feathers.

He shot her an incredulous stare. "I wouldn't know," he murmured sardonically.

She giggled. "If it makes you feel better, the interview read like a dating ad."

"If it is flattering then why is it  _missing_?"

Hisana lifted her head, and cleared her throat before answering. "It seems the Ninth Division's production quality has taking a turn for the worse?" she murmured unconvincingly between throat clearings.

Byakuya lifted a brow in response.

She offered him a wolfish grin, and lowered her head, bringing her shoulders up defensively as she did so. "Well, they did take  _some_  creative license."

His features hardened.

"If you insist," she sighed, taking to her feet. With a few deft movements she positioned herself close to him, and yanked out the lowest drawer of his desk.

"You put the article in  _my_  desk?" he said, somewhat flabbergasted by her confidence.

Flipping through the papers, she hummed a soft, "'In plain sight' as they say," in response. "Here it is," she muttered to herself as she plucked the article out of the drawer.

Balancing the newsprint between her index and middle fingers, she extended her hand to allow him access to the article. Without a second thought, Byakuya snatched the article from her before she had the chance to reconsider her largess.

Hisana watched as her husband unfolded the article. Intrigued by what his reaction would be, her stomach filled with butterfly-like fluttering. The muscles in her body tightened, and the breath in her lungs caught. Anxiety coursed through every fiber as each second ticked away. In an attempt to allay the feeling of pins-and-needles, she moved behind her husband and propped her chin on his shoulder; this way she could at least read along with him… (Even if it did discernibly bother Byakuya that she was looking over his shoulder.)

After a few long, tense moments, she turned her attention to him. His face was unreadable, borderline stony, from what she observed. He was not revealing even the slightest expression of excitement, anger, or angst at what he was reading. No, he was playing it close to the vest, she mused much to her horror.

' _Don't they have an expression for moments just like this? 'The calm before the storm' or something?'_  She lightly tugged at her bottom lip with her fingers as she finished skimming the article for the second time. It was easy for her since she had it nearly memorized, but it appeared that her husband was taking his precious sweet time with it.

This concerned her.

' _It wasn't that bad,'_  she kept reassuring herself.  _'Sure, they added a few things here and there. And, perhaps they expanded on a few answers, but it was nothing that offensive. Right?'_

' _If you had to ask the question yourself then I think you have the answer, '_ her inner pragmatist chirped.

"Well?" she choked in a strangled breath.

Calmly, Byakuya folded the article in half and gave her a sidelong glance. He could tell by how taut her body was against his that she was anxious. Her breath was slow and warm against his neck, and her fingers dug deeper into his shoulders with each passing moment.

"It was," he paused, unsure of whether the information had really sunk in, "appropriately absurd."

For the first time in what felt like hours, Hisana finally exhaled. A feeling akin to relief filled her lungs when she found the courage to inhale again. Unthinkingly, she peeled her body away from his and resumed seiza. "Good," she murmured under her breath.

She closed her eyes upon feeling the warmth of his body melt away from her. When she opened them she was surprised to find her husband extending his hand in aide. Unhesitant, she placed her diminutive hand in his.

It was  _mostly_  unintentional, but as she stood she took an extra step and landed in a warm embrace. Her wiry arms tightly wrapped around him, and she buried her head in the soft silks adorning his frame. Here she could breathe easy, and on inhaling a deep perfumed breath she closed her eyes. "You are not terribly displeased?" She wanted to add, "…with me," but was too afraid of the response.

Silence fell over them much to her chagrin. It was a suffocating and heavy type of quiet that she dared not disturb. Timidly, she elevated her head and glanced up at him; his eyes were quick to meet hers. Not a word was exchanged as he gently pulled away, but before she had the chance to utter a word he interrupted.

"Did you really say that I was a good -" his voice just ended before he finished the sentence. His even tenor just dropped off, like he was afraid of speaking the word on his mind.

Hisana blinked, feeling a rather amused pull at her heartstring. Her face, once wrinkled with worry, brightened. Byakuya, modest? She repressed the urge to shake her head at the musing. Certainly, not the man to whom she was married. Her husband was many things, but modest definitely wasn't in the top 10 of his finer attributes.

"Did you really say that I-" he began once more.

". . . was a good ' _kisser_ '?" she interrupted, perceiving his difficulty. (Never-mind the fact that she had substituted a choice word in the process.) Hisana's cheeks flushed a bright shade of red, and she nodded her response. "Naturally."

A small half-grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. It was a fleeting thing, for within a blink of an eye any of the husband-ly glow she had once observed had disappeared.

"A walk?" he asked, offering his arm and nodding to the garden.

"Yes," she replied.

And, to the end of her days, the interview was never brought up again.


	30. If Only...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Switching it up a little :)

There she sits poised stiffly over her writing desk. Her right elbow rests on one of the desk's four corners. The elbow is in an upward position so she can comfortably cup her chin in her hand. She looks pensive. Dark brows hang low over intense eyes, and an expression of deep concentration creases her face as she examines the epistle she has just received. The sunrays pour in from the open doors, and cast a golden hue about her. She appears soft, almost angelic in the morning light.

Looming over the room's threshold, Byakuya stands somewhat stunned, somewhat intrigued by the look of conviction etched into his wife's face. It is a look he has never received – a look of fiery passion as she scribbles down a few lines on a piece of paper. For a moment he wonders what she is thinking –what she is writing - before realization slowly sets in.

He knows. He always knew. This third party resides comfortably in their marriage. Well, perhaps  _comfortably_  is too broad a word. This  _entity_  is more like a noisy spirit – a poltergeist. He ignores it to the best of his ability. This does not mean he does not notice it; he just forces it from his thoughts when convenient. He hopes that someday it will work itself out. He hopes someday it will leave his wife in peace so that she can finally…

Byakuya shakes his head, and carefully files the thought back into a deep black crevice of his mind. No good would come from languishing. It would only make him bitter, jealous even. And of what? A mere memory? The burden of transgressions past?

Absurd, he thinks. One can not be jealous of a memory or a prior transgression, he reasons.

Quietly, he takes a step away from the door. He wants to say something – anything – but the words escape him. They are beyond reach and comprehension. He has always fumbled with words and emotions. Either he's too brash or too aloof. He's too reckless or too reserved. Right now he's too indecisive.

She is only a few paces away and yet she does not feel him watching her. She is totally unaware of his presence. So absorbed with her search – her cause – she cannot sense what is standing before her. And, for a brief moment he wonders if she would indulge him if she was aware…

Even when he has her full attention she is always an arm's length away. A part of her remains remote, constantly thinking about that missing part – forever searching for the piece of her she shed so many years ago. Nothing will suffice until she finds it. Even in illness, with her senses dull and her body lame, she continues.

This unspoken yet noisy spirit that resides comfortably in their relationship is the only thing that keeps her going, he realizes. It provides the fuel for her fire. It is also the very thing that depletes her. But most of all, it is what keeps her a hairsbreadth from connecting with him. Even during their most intimate of moments, most passionate of kisses and love-making, he can still feel a piece of her is missing, forever searching for the one she lost.

If only he could make all of her problems go away – scatter on some transparent breeze. If only he could make her better, mind and body…

He, however, cannot achieve such things. No amount of spiritual pressure, discipline, or training can help her. Money nor skill or wit can save her now. Her cause has consumed her; swallowed her whole and is in the process of spitting her out on the other side of good. All he can do is silently stand by and watch as her guilt tears her down and rips her apart.

For a fleeting and painful moment he wonders if she will survive the burden she has placed on herself. And, for a split second he wonders if this marriage is the largest burden for her yet…

At this thought, Byakuya lowers his head and stares long and hard into the tatami. He cannot deny his own selfish wants must weigh on her, and he cannot deny the toll his family has taken on her. Their venom certainly must eat away at her as it does him. She must find their schemes and devious machinations just as troubling as he does if not more.

Inhaling a deep breath, Byakuya steals one last glance of his wife. The morning haze has broken, and all he can see is a fractured woman with a heavy brow and equally heavy heart leaning over a desk in untold misery. It is a misery he can never truly know or comprehend; it is a misery he will never be able to assuage no matter his skill or efforts.

As he withdraws from the brightness of the room, he hopes there will come a time in their relationship when she will look upon him and be completely present and happy. Until then, he will remain content with the piece of her heart she affords him and only him.

Life is not meant to be easy or "fun", he reminds himself as he moves down the darkened corridor. But, for the fleeting moments that he has a piece of her attention life feels entirely more meaningful.


	31. Selfish Moments

With eyes tightly squeezed shut, Hisana exhaled a heavy breath. "I've been sitting here for an hour now," she muttered warningly.

It was too early in the morning to have Kishu working his brand of "magic" on the top of her head. The raw nerves, fluttering in her stomach, and tense muscles did not help the matter, either. In fact, given the imminent meeting that was drawing closer with every "tick" of the clock, Hisana's patience reserves were quickly depleting.

Hisana eyed her "hairdresser" in the vanity mirror that was stationed in front of her. Her lips parted and her heart stammered a few beats in burning anticipation. She wanted to be prepared for the steward's inevitable barb. The days of her playing the nice, submissive Lady of the House were running out, and she was angling for her chance to strike – to vent her frustrations, anxiety, and disapproval of the situation. Her mood was so foul she was beyond caring who it was that was on the receiving end of her wrath.

She narrowed her eyes into mere slits as she felt his assault on her scalp and hair subside for a breath. Either Kishu had stolen a glance in the mirror to see his mistress's distress or he could  _feel_ her agitation for he did not dare to respond during the seconds that followed.

Inhaling a deep breath, she forced her eyelids shut and chewed on her bottom lip; her top teeth scraped across the sensitive skin.  _'This is going to be a bad day,'_  she thought bitterly to herself. On principal, Hisana was an advocate of positive thinking where drudgery was concerned. On this day, however, any positive thoughts were quickly shoved out of the forefront of her mind. It was no use. She had endured five years of this – this awful, terrible, obscenely torturous day – and it never turned out well for her.

It was treacherous; it was odious; it was loathsome; there were so many adjectives to choose from that she was almost at a loss.

' _If there was ever a day to fall sick and need hospitalization this is the day. I hate the annual meeting of the Noble Families with every fiber of my being. No, there are not enough fibers in me to fully hate it. I'd need to go to the Research Division – which one was that, again? – to collect extra tissue to fully realize my burning hatred for this day!'_

In all probability, Hisana would have continued on with this trail of thought indefinitely had she not been distracted by a rather painful snag of a comb's teeth in her hair. Kishu, who was content with acting his frustrations out on her head, did not bother to break his stroke when he felt the tangle. No, on the contrary, he added more pressure to the sweep, causing Hisana's head to snap abruptly to the side.

Her temper quickly flared at the hair-combing infraction. She turned her attention to the mirror in front of her. Once she set her crosshairs on the wizened steward, her eyes narrowed and a glint of bloody murder radiated from her baby blues. "Right about now I would settle on having  _any_ hair left on my head." Her voice was surprisingly low and threatening even to her ears.

Dragging the comb across the crown of her scalp, Kishu muttered a pointed, "As would I," under his breath. His dissatisfaction was duly noted by his mistress. The strokes he made with the brush were incrementally becoming shorter and harder. So flushed with irritation, he placed a hand against her shoulder, and yanked back on the brush, causing her head to forcefully snap back despite his efforts at stabilization.

"You would think that after five years it would have evened itself out by now!" he growled.

"You would think that after five years you would realize it is best to let my hair alone," she hissed.

The teeth of the black ivory comb dragged heavily against her scalp, causing a pattern of red track marks to rise on her skin. Satisfied with the patch of hair he had combed out, Kishu removed the decorative hairpin, which was hanging out of the corner of his mouth, and inserted it deep into the clump of black locks.

The pin sharply collided with her scalp. The resulting surge of heat mixed with the electric bites of pain finally provoked Hisana. "That is enough!" she commanded, sharply yanking her head away from the steward's clutches.

"That is quite enough, Kishu. You are dismissed," she barked, deftly moving to the doors leading to the garden.

Kishu stood dumbfounded. His eyes widened to the size of half-dollars, and his jaw drooped open. He could not believe himself. His usually mild-mannered and polite Lady had inexplicitly turned into a demon. He was not quite sure how to respond to this sudden transformation. Wordlessly, he watched his Mistress disappear into the bright light of morning. Even the wood-splintering snap of the door slamming shut behind her did not break him from his silent confusion.

Cradling the afflicted side of her head in her hands, Hisana exhaled a troubled breath.  _'I don't know what…'_  She didn't have the heart to complete that thought.

The cause of her bellicose demeanor was just too obvious.  _'The meeting this year is just a case of bad timing,'_  she observed; this time with a clearer head. Her aggravation at the situation had yet to fully dissolve, but it was dissipating slowly but surely.

Mindlessly, she began down the stony path leading to a small pavilion that bordered the garden.  _'It's just,'_  she mused with a heavy sigh,  _'bad timing.'_

Once she reached the garden pavilion, she tore out the kanzashi from her hair, and began to soothe her poor agitated and burning scalp with a caressing touch. Gripping the hairpin in her hand, she bowed her head.

' _Why?'_  she thought hopelessly to herself. She had no inkling what direction she was heading with that question, nor was she sure she wanted to know.

Bad timing or not, she was on the verge of an emotional breakdown.

' _Things just will not cooperate. Time is slipping from my fingers, and there is nothing I can do. No one I can make a plea to. Nothing.'_

Every muscle in her body locked in flexion. Her fingers coiled into fists, and her body shook. It was an imperceptible oscillation at first, but as her muscles began to fatigue her shaking became more and more pronounced.

Sensations of hot and cold rushed through her simultaneously. Beads of sweat began to collect on her brow, while her extremities felt like ice. Acid churned and hammered away in her stomach, her chest tightened in preparation for a cough, and anxiety pumped through her veins like blood.

She was physically ill and emotionally distressed, and there was no respite in sight. In fact, she was relatively sure that repercussions were in store for her recent behavior. Nobility weren't supposed to behave in such unflattering and infernal ways. Nobles were supposed to be "above" it; they were supposed to live a detached existence that was guided by protocol and decorum and little else.

' _I'm not a noble,'_  she was quick to remind herself.  _'I am insignificant if not for my attachment to -'_  She stopped short of her husband's name. Given her volatile condition, she did not want to sully the name and image of the one person who had done so much for her.

' _I don't know why I feel this bad. I don't understand. The doctor only confirmed what I have known for a long time now. It isn't shocking. It just is. The treatments are no longer working. Time has been declared finite.'_  It was not until then that she realized just how hard it was to come to terms with the prognosis. She had been pushing all those painful thoughts away – the illness, her inability to sustain a child, and now the expiration date that had been placed on her life.

Still trembling, Hisana glanced down at her hand the instant she felt a sticky wet substance.  _'Oh, no,'_  she thought in horror. Twin rivulets of crimson streamed along the contours of her hand.

' _The kanzashi must have broken.'_  Indeed, when she opened her hand, the long thin hairpin had split in two. She had been grasping the fractured pin so hard that the jagged edges had punctured the skin in multiple points.

Tiredly, she removed the pieces from her damaged hand, and before she had the chance to utilize the rational part of her brain, her emotions took over. Sobbing and angry, she gripped a piece of the kanzashi firmly in each hand and plunged the ends into a nearby flower box. It was one of the single, most undeserved acts of violence she ever committed. And when she looked up through blood-shot red-rimmed eyes, she felt the sting of embarrassment quickly usurp any remnant of her remaining aggression. Red-cheeked and choking on her humiliation, she quickly averted her gaze to the flowers in front of her.

"I didn't think the begonias were  _that_  offensive," Byakuya said in a low deadpan.

Hisana's eyes flitted up to find her husband standing a few paces to her right. The red in her cheeks began to dim into a pale pink, and a small lopsided grin lengthened her lips at his attempt at humor. "I'm sorry," she whispered, surreptitiously withdrawing the broken hairpin from the soil.

From her periphery, she caught a glimpse of him moving closer to the banister she was bracing herself against. She watched askance as he grasped the coarse wood with both hands before turning to her. She could tell he wanted to say something. What, exactly? She knew not, but she had myriad of guesses.

Reconsidering his approach, Byakuya turned his attention to the diverted river running through the middle of the garden. Every few seconds, however, his gaze would instinctively drift to his left, and it would linger on his wife.

She looked so desolate standing in a forward position with her elbows propped against the railing. He could tell she was trying to put on a happy face in his presence. But, right then even her happy face appeared hellish.

"The meeting of the noble families is in a few hours," she observed in an even monotone. Her voice was devoid of all feeling; it was almost mechanical. She  _felt_  mechanical.

"How was your appointment?" he asked, ignoring her attempt at diversion.

A pained expression blackened her features.  _'He can be terribly perceptive at times,'_  she mused. A defeated smile tugged at her lips at the observation.

Turning her head to face him, her eyes probed his face, scrutinizing every line and contour as she considered his question.  _'It's about time you let him in, Hisana.'_  The thought was as tempting as it was perilous. Her motivations for telling him were not exactly pure. Letting someone in would relieve her from some of her pain.

' _But, pain is still pain. Inflicting it on someone as helpless as you are in this matter isn't going to make you feel better in the long run. It certainly won't ease the anxiety of person you divulge this information to. There is nothing he can do, Hisana. Nothing. You could pretend that it'll get better, can't you? He probably already knows it's futile. He just wants to be lied to. Isn't that what you wanted the doctor to do today? Lie.'_

The features in her face tightened into a look of stoicism. Her lips pressed together, and her eyes scanned the horizon in deep contemplation. "Do you really want to know?" she asked softly.

By the movement in her peripheral vision, she could tell he was nodding his reply.

She exhaled a deep breath through her nose, and she closed her eyes. Her heart skidded to a halt the moment she opened her mouth in response. "The prognosis is," she paused as she tried to get both her tongue and mind around the next word, "death."

She did it. There was no taking it back now.

After the words had been spoken, she turned to glimpse her husband. Her eyes were wide and willing him to look at her, but he could not. Byakuya simply lowered his head and stared vacantly into the begonias. His face was dead – not even a hint of emotion could be detected.

Instantly regretting her candor, she straightened her posture and reached out, placing her hand on top of his. "There is nothing that can be done," she said, anticipating the instant the wheels in his head would start turning, scrutinizing every avenue that could be used to "fix" the problem.

Byakuya shut his eyes, and moved his hand from under hers. In that moment she could tell he was suffering. And seeing the misery on his face elicited the second worst feeling she ever endured in her life.

She didn't know which was worse: Letting hope exist where it was futile or killing hope with a single fell blow. Neither were wonderful options. She, now, had to live with the choice she made.

"I suppose we should start making arrangements then," he murmured softly.

She nodded her head. "The doctor said that would be best. He said it would," she strangled on the next breath, and could no longer continue. It was such a hard thing to admit. Death, at least in her mind, was not something she feared; it was just something that cemented her failure. Her chance at atonement might never be realized. Her honor in every meaningful role she filled would be lost.

She trembled at the last thought.  _'I really thought I could make everything right before I died. I really believed it.'_  She shook her head in a vain attempt at staving off the tears burning at her eyes.  _'I was a fool. A damned fool.'_

"I don't know what to do," she choked aloud. She shook her head in dismay.

Byakuya observed her in silence. Words at this point were utterly worthless. Actions were not much better. But, if he had a choice…

Unsure of how she would react, he gently wrapped his arm around her shoulders and nudged her closer. Given her state, she was surprisingly responsive. She buried her face in the folds of his noble vestments, and she sobbed. Her back and shoulders trembled with each cry and gasp.

"I'm so sorry," she managed between strained breaths.

He shook his head in response. "You don't have to go to the meeting," he said in an assuring tenor.

She looked up imploringly. "No, I need to go. It is the least I can do."

"You need your rest," he reasoned calmly, "I can handle the Family."

"You've handled far too much. It is my duty," she hiccupped, feeling the maelstrom of emotions begin to subside.

Even as the tears dried, the heaving ceased, and the trembling stopped, Hisana still felt like she had been hit by a bulldozer. The emotional pain may have numbed, but her physical illness still festered within her. While she could walk and act on her own volition, there was no excuse to skip the noble festivities planned for the day.

Feeling inordinately heated by the previous turmoil, she peeled herself away from her husband. And with heavy brow she took his hand in hers and led him toward the manor. Kishu was going to have one helluva mess on his hands to make her presentable, she mused to herself wryly.

* * *

 

' _This is the worst part. Right now,'_  Hisana thought bitterly to herself.

The torturous hair, makeup, and dressing session were delicate pleasures when judged against  _this_. Even the pomp and circumstance of arriving at the rendezvous point was only a mild nuisance when compared to the needless pain that she was about to endure.

In short, being dropped into a hollow pit would have been preferable.

Stepping over the threshold to the Pillar Room, a site where large parties could hold meetings, Hisana felt a bolt of electricity surge down her spine and slowly spread from there, chilling her to the marrow. She hugged herself tightly as she crossed the floor. Her head was bowed low so as to obscure her identity, and her eyes were fixed on the well burnished marble beneath her feet.

' _The marble is pretty,'_  she noted miserably to herself as she continued forward.

She did not maintain the façade for long. The scratching inside her head proved to be too irresistible to repress. For a split second, she spared an upward glance. She knew her look was in vain.  _'No use,'_  she sighed inwardly,  _'He was in the cavalcade ahead of me. He's probably already in the auditorium…'_

Even if Byakuya had been standing in the lobby, her chances at catching him before the meeting of the Noble Heads commenced was nil. The area was stuffed full with attendants, servants, and nobles. The whole room hummed with a hurried excitement. For a woman on a mission, she found the energy very disorienting.

Grimly, Hisana inclined her head and surveyed the room once more. It was very elegantly dressed, she hated to admit. The venue was perhaps the only agreeable part of the entire charade. The Pillar Room was very spacious, decorated with marble and trimmed with gold, and its walls were almost uniformly glass curtain windows. On a sunny day, as it was then, there was no need for artificial sources of light. The sun's rays poured into the room in bright sheets, reflected off the gilded walls, and colored the area and its attendants in a golden hue.

It was a truly magnificent piece of architecture. But, at the moment, the aesthetics and ambience were lost on Hisana. She was too caught up trying to appear innocuous as she considered her escape from the lobby and into the garden. She did not realistically think she could get away with such a feat, but the thought provided comfort enough. Her husband was going to be detained in the meeting for some time so she needed to find some sort of distraction.

She needed a distraction, that is, which minimized the amount of time that involved visiting with his family members… She  _had_  to socialize with the other wives; there was no getting around it. However, she didn't  _have_  to spend the next three hours with them.

She had done the mental calculation five years ago when she was first paraded around the convention of nobles like a three-headed-dog. If she managed to make herself scarce enough she could get away with spending approximately twenty minutes with the family. She, however, never managed to get away with the said twenty minutes. The last four times she attended the event she spent the whole time being terrorized by the most passive aggressive women to ever roam Soul Society.

This time, however, she was hell-bent on making sure she spent as much time as she could away from the nobles. It was selfish, she could not deny, but she was not in the mood to play the role of the put-upon woman. Her nerves were already fraying, and she feared it would not take much prodding to bring her to a new critical low.

' _Snapping on the Kuchiki women would not be desirable behavior,'_  she reminded herself as she reached the door leading to the terrace.

With an assured grace about her, Hisana lifted her arm and reached for the door handle. It would only take a sharp tug and then she would be free.  _'One small yank.'_  The words seared themselves into her mind. Her heart hammered hard inside her chest, and her mouth went dry as her fingertips brushed the handle. She could almost taste her freedom as she leaned forward. A spark of adrenaline quickly unraveled into the bliss of euphoria as she took that much feted step onto the terrace.

"Why if it isn't Lady Kuchiki." The voice plucked a discordant note in Hisana's heart that sent her tumbling back into the doldrums. Of all the luck, she had chosen  _that_  door to exit through.

She closed her eyes for a moment, and attempted to regain her composure before addressing the women. Inhaling a deep breath, she locked her jaws down into a smile and panned the group. "It is a lovely day," she managed through clenched teeth.

"That is why we're sitting out on the terrace," the eldest of the women reasoned.

So wide and forced her smile had become, Hisana could actually feel the muscles in her face begin to twitch with fatigue. "Of course," she answered stiffly, fearing her current expression would dissolve into the look of mortification that simmered beneath it.

"Well, come now. Don't stand there like a pauper. Sit," the woman commanded evenly.

Still smiling, Hisana pressed her lips together and took her place at the end of one of the sofas. She was stuffed uncomfortably next to Byakuya's very pregnant cousin. Feeling that it was only proper to congratulate the woman, she parted her lips in preparation to speak, but stopped short upon realizing that she never bothered to learn the woman's name in the first place.

If possible, her blood pressure spiked the moment she realized that besides the elderly woman, Fusae, she hardly recognized any of the other women. Her look of horror was duly noted by Fusae, who was never one to pass up an opportunity to humiliate the current Lady of the house.

"My, you look absolutely dumbfounded, Lady Hisana."

Hisana let that one pass as she smacked her lips shut.

"Are you not going to say something about Touko?" Fusae continued.

Hisana's eyes widened at the name.  _'I'm supposed to know who that is.'_  Anxiously, she surveyed the five women seated around her. Like vultures eying a prized carrion, the women waited with baited breath for the female head of their clan to make her first gaffe of the day. She could feel the tension around her slowly build with every second she remained silent. Taking a stab in the dark as to the woman's identity, she turned to the pregnant woman next to her and offered a sheepish smile. "Congratulations."

The woman's expression fell in such a way that Hisana was almost positive that she had guessed correctly. It was not a look of ill-spirited surprise or glee; it was a reflection of someone whose entertainment had been soundly thwarted.

"Thank you, Lady Kuchiki." The gratitude, however, was noticeably feigned.

"We were just talking about how wonderful it is to have another addition to the Kuchiki clan before you," Fusae paused for a moment – seemingly in search for the proper verb.

' _Interrupted?'_  Hisana thought to herself.

"…joined us," the old woman added.

Hisana responded by lowering her head submissively and widening her grin. "It is wonderful," she forced, gritting her teeth in the process. Mindlessly, she fingered the decorative fan that was tucked into her obi.

Fusae was quick to zero in on her mistress's fidgeting, and, for a brief moment, her lips cracked a tense smile. "We keep wondering when Byakuya will honor us with an heir," she sighed. To further punctuate her discontentment, Fusae tilted her head and gazed longingly at the sky.

Sucking in an uneasy breath, Hisana fisted her hands in the folds of her robes, and bit down hard on her bottom lip. _'Now, at least the pressure is just on Byakuya.'_  At that mordant observation, she could not help but grin.  _'It doesn't seem the clan cares how he gets the job done.'_

Fusae's brows shot up innocently. "You're smiling, Lady Kuchiki."

Hisana shook her head in response.

"Is there something you would like to tell us?"

' _Yes, I'm expecting the future heir to the Kuchiki family jewels. That's right, your next leader will be borne of a street rat,'_  was what Hisana  _wanted_  to say. But she bit her tongue, and instead answered with a very demure, "No."

Fusae's expression hardened as she scrutinized the young Lady.

"We had some trouble conceiving," Touko offered softly.

Hisana turned her head to acknowledge the woman. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Touko added a gentle, "I had a few  _instances_  like yourself."

Hisana prickled at the insinuation, or, rather, she prickled at how to interpret the woman's statement.  _'Instances? What could she possibly mean by that?'_  She quickly began sifting through her memories – time traveling as it were - for anything that would have suggested…

"You look stricken, Hisana," Fusae noted aloud. "Is there something wrong?"

"Did I say something, Lady Kuchiki?" Touko asked in a sing-song cadence.

Hisana's gaze had fallen to the middle distance as she considered any possible slipups regarding… All she could do was shake her head in response.  _'There is no way? There is no way.'_  She nervously pressed her index and middle fingers to her lips the moment she felt her stomach began to send pangs of nausea up her chest.

Shifting nervously in her seat, Touko murmured a defensive, "I thought everyone knew."

Hisana knew it was only a matter of time before Fusae or the other three nameless women would seize the opportunity to ask. They knew. The asking was just to toy with her – to make her feel worse than she already did. And then everything slowly clicked into place.  _'I don't have to deal with this,'_  she calmly thought to herself.  _'Not right now.'_

Regaining her composure, Hisana was about to cut Fusae off mid-question, when the group was suddenly interrupted. Hisana barely had the chance to get the first syllable out when she looked up to see a very familiar face.

She could have let out a cry of relief she was so happy to see him. She had no idea what news he brought or what he said upon arrival, but she could not have felt more relieved if he had been her own husband. And for the first time in close to one hour of scrutiny, a genuine smile lengthened her lips.

"What occasions a Shiba here?" Fusae asked. A look of disapproval was quickly blackening her face as she observed him.

"Vice Captain," Hisana managed in a breathy voice, "it is nice to see you." She could not have meant those words more.

"I was just delivering a request for my captain when I saw you," he said genially.

"That was very thoughtful of you to come and give your acknowledgments," Hisana rattled out; although, the sentiments coming out of her mouth paled in importance to the ones radiating from her eyes. Her eyes were wide and imploring. If possible, they screamed, "Help!"

He nodded his head, and offered her a smile. "Maybe you could help me find the hall I'm supposed to-"

"Nonsense!" Fusae protested. "Escorting a mere shinigami is not the duty of Lady Kuchiki!"

Hisana did not need a lifeline extended to her more than once. Even before Kaien had fully made offer, she had already taken to her feet. "If you insist," she answered drily over Fusae's protests.

Giving a deft flick of her fan, Hisana gracefully took his arm and began toward the lobby. Once safely inside and out of earshot, she tilted her head up. An impish half-grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. "Thank you."

Kaien shot her a sidelong glance, and shook his head. "It's nothing."

Her smile widened. "You do this often?"

He slyly glimpsed her from the corner of his eye. Cocked a brow, he responded, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Rescuing people from themselves?"

He smiled. "You weren't looking too hot back there."

Giving a few waves of her fan, Hisana shook her head. "I don't suppose I was," she said, dropping her arm from his.

She paused for a moment before turning to face him. "Thank you, Vice Captain. I mean it."

He was quick to read her body language. Before he rebounded from his next step, he halted and glanced at her from over his shoulder. "It was really nothing," he said. Absentmindedly, he placed a hand against the back of his neck and grinned his sincerity.

Hisana bowed low. "I'll let you go. I've taken up too much of your time as it is."

He returned the gesture. "Take care of yourself," he said, toying with the sealed envelope in his hand.

Still in a bowed position with her eyes firmly glued to the marble under her feet, she nodded her head. "You too, Vice Captain," she murmured imperceptibly under her breath. When she looked up she found that he had disappeared – swallowed whole into the mass of humanity that gathered in the gargantuan vestibule.

Straightening her posture, Hisana observed the area for a moment. There were decidedly fewer souls still lingering inside the hall; many of them had made the exodus outside, and now littered the adjoining terrace and garden.

It felt less chaotic than it did before, she observed as she moved across the floor. The room still buzzed with activity, mind you. There was still a hum of people talking and laughing with one another. Swirls of shifting, bowing, and other ado were easily found in any direction she turned. So many souls and so much happiness made her wonder just why she was so miserable.

' _Oh, that's right, you're not one of them,'_  she noted bitterly to herself. She crossed her arms defensively in front of her chest, and slowly climbed a few stairs to the next level of the hall.

' _I didn't realize there was a fountain here,'_  she mused. But there it was, big as day. The sound of rushing water only confirmed that what she was seeing was true.

Intrigued that she had missed such a thing before, Hisana started in the direction of the fountain. Before she had a good two steps under her, however, she was quickly stopped by a strident call in her direction. "Miss! Miss!"

She glanced behind her to see a young man dressed in a service uniform had followed her up the stairs. "Yes?" she answered, turning to address the man.

On seeing the kamon threaded into her kimono, the boy's eyes widened in panic. "Oh, forgive me, Lady Kuchiki," he stammered, and gracelessly he attempted to bow. In his enthusiasm to show respect, however, he tripped on the back of his own sandal, dropping the platter he had been carrying and all of its contents on the floor in the process. A resounding "clack" along with the shattering of glass resonated through the Hall.

"Oh, dear," she murmured, dashing over to his side.

"Oh, please, Lady Kuchiki, don't trouble yourself," the young man murmured the moment he felt the coolness of her hands against his. "I'm quite alright," he said her. Before he had the chance to get the reassurance out of his mouth, Hisana had already helped pull him to his feet.

Looking at the remnants of glassware, the boy's face blackened. His shoulders slumped, and his brows bent into the most depressing look imaginable. "I didn't mean to make such a mess," he sighed.

"It's alright," she said softly. "It's easily cleaned."

"I just wanted to give you back your necklace. You dropped it on the stairs."

Hisana's brows knitted together, and her hand immediately shot up to her décolleté. Indeed, her necklace was not there. "Oh, my," she gasped - alarmed by the fact that she had not realized her loss. "Thank you for noticing it."

He proffered the necklace.

"The clasp must have broken," she said on receiving it. "Thank you again." She bent deeply at the waist.

"No, no, no gratitude necessary, Lady Kuchiki."

The boy's face instantly turned three shades of red. "W-wo-wou-would Lady Kuchiki like something to drink?" he quickly asked, realizing his recent blunders and the Lady's attention had garnered interest from the surrounding nobles and his  _boss_.

She gave him an easy smile, and nodded her head. "Please."

"Tea? We have green tea, black tea, and white tea. We also have juice, and -"

"Sake," she said calmly before he had the chance to finish.

His eyes widened at the forwardness of her request. "Of, of, of course," he stuttered before spinning around on his heel to fill her order.

Hisana pocketed the broken necklace in her kimono before turning back to toward the fountain. It was lovely, but not half as lovely as the sight she spied a few meters past the water display.

' _I can't believe it…'_

Carefully navigating the room, she crossed the floor past the fountain. Much to her delight on reaching the door at the opposite end of the hall she was quick to discover that her eyes had not deceived her. Half believing her good fortune, Hisana slid the door in front of her open to reveal a small secluded balcony overlooking the garden. The area was completely abandoned. Not a soul in sight to bother her.

Quietly, she stepped crossed over the threshold, and shut the door behind her. The smell of fresh, un-perfumed air was a godsend. For a good minute she stood with head high and eyes shut. She basked in the comfort of her solitude. The warm sun beating down on her face broke through her nervous chill. And for a moment all was serene. Her mind was quiet, and all she had to concentrate on was her breathing. Deep listless breaths.

The tension in her shoulders and neck slowly melted. The beat of her heart slowed to a dull drum, and the taut muscles in her face relaxed only to reveal just how sore they were from overuse. Absently, she began massaging her temples. The slow circular motions made by her cool fingertips were proficient at assuaging her throbbing headache.

And, for a brief moment, Hisana forgot where she was and the source of all her vexation. With each inhalation a sense of calm washed over her. The peace for which she had been searching finally arrived. That moment of pure tranquility, however, was fickle and easily disturbed. The glass door behind her made a raucous as it dragged across its track.

She was no longer alone.

Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and heaved a sigh.  _'What now?'_  Her thoughts were groggy inside her head. She felt lethargic in both mind and body; her resolve questioned and her desire slaked. Her movements as she turned reflected her brain fog. Slow and hesitant, she glanced over her shoulder to acknowledge the intruder.

"Your drink, milady?" It was Ito of all souls who stood with cup in hand.

"I suppose your presence is two-fold?" she said. A sad knowing look was quickly dimming her face with each syllable.

Ito lowered her gaze, and grimaced. "Lady Fusae has requested your presence."

Her brows lowered and her eyelids drooped in response. She looked utterly abject at the prospect of having to entertain his family more than she had already. "Of course," she said belatedly.

For a fleeting glance, she turned her attention back to the garden below, betraying her reluctance to comply with the elder Kuchiki's request.

Ito could not help but notice the faraway glint in his mistress's eyes as they roamed the grounds below. He imagined that she desired to be as far away from there as possible, and he could not blame her. Even he in his lowly of positions as a servant realized the pain she had to endure. Flowery words and well-decorated veneers of civility proved to be the most transparent of masks. Beneath it all was a deep pool of hideous insult after hideous insult. In fact, it was the only thing the gossip-mongers ever did that Ito could describe as "deep." Most of the women were so shallow you couldn't even hope to get your ankles wet with them.

Drawing to her side, Ito murmured a kind, "You don't have to go."

She lifted her head up, and smiled lugubriously at his attempt to placate her. "No, I must go," she said in a depressive tone. "But, not a moment before I have my drink," she added, reaching for the cup in his hand.

When she glanced down she was only half-surprised to find tea in place of the sake she had ordered. Before she had a chance to comment, Ito was swift to explain the substitution. "It's because of your—"

Hisana gesticulated with a wave of her hand that she did not care to hear the reason behind the chicanery. "How much longer?"

"The meeting, you mean?"

She nodded her head.

Ito paused and glanced skyward as he calculated the amount of time that had passed and the estimated time it would take to discuss every item on the agenda.

After a few depressingly long moments, Hisana murmured under her breath, "That long, huh?"

"About an hour and a half," Ito said after much ado. When he turned to descry Hisana's features he was met with empty space. Reflexively, he whirled around in time to catch her stepping into the Pillar Room.

"Thank you, Ito." She called from inside the corridor. Pausing mid-step, she shot the servant a sidelong stare, "They are still on the terrace?"

He nodded his head. "Yes, Milady."

She squeezed her eyelids tight and sucked in a lung-full of air as she prepared herself for the plunge.

And a plunge it was indeed. When she stepped onto the terrace she was quickly overcome not only by the sound of Fusae's nagging voice but a coughing spell as well. Covering her mouth with a handkerchief, Hisana lowered her head and tried her best to smother the sounds of her hacking with the cloth. She glanced up after the fit to see five very stern faces staring back at her.

"Well, after traipsing around with that interloper and doing who knows what else, I suppose you have caught yourself a cold?" Fusae asked in an accusatory tone.

Hisana stared grimly down at the elder Kuchiki woman. What should have bothered her, namely the derogatory sentiments toward Kaien, did not faze her in the slightest nor did it surprise her. The woman had entitlement issues that could transcend both time and space with their breadth, and perhaps Hisana was just too tired to care.

Hisana gave a passing glance at the linen being clenched in her hand. For a moment, her eyes drifted back to the handkerchief, having perceived a touch of crimson in the cloth that had not been there previously.

Her heart sank.  _'Blood…'_

She  _wanted_  to linger on that thought, but she could not waste an ounce of her newfound composure. After all, she was not sure how long it would last.

"Does your husband approve of your dalliances with this Shiba?" Fusae asked threateningly.

Carefully, Hisana folded the cloth into a small square before fixing her gaze on Fusae. "I take offense at your unfair characterization of my relationship with Kaien Shiba. We are merely acquaintances," she said firmly before taking a seat.

"What is there to take offense at, Lady Hisana? I observed how you sprung to your feet at the chance of casing after him," Fusae's voice became pointed as did the look in her eyes. "Do you know the history between the Kuchikis and Shibas? Have you  _any_  idea?!"

Hisana leaned back in her seat, and tucked her chin close to her neck. "I am well aware of the history of the two families."

"So, you care not then? You choose to legitimize them!"

"Legitimize them as what, Lady Fusae? As actual beings with  _feelings_? Does that make me so cruel? You forget of my background."

"Hardly do I ever forget," Fusae hissed, throwing her weight back in her chair as if to declare her aggravation.

Hisana's posture became ramrod straight. Instinctively, she sat forward with her chest lifted and head held high. She was going to say something biting, but was waylaid by another bout of coughing. This particular fit was more vicious than the previous, and after a few painful seconds Hisana was left with a parched and sore throat, a stinging chest, and a metallic taste in her mouth. Imperceptibly, she glanced down at the white linen held so tightly in her hand. Red, red, red. The blood was a dark scarlet, and was beginning to seep through to the other side of the fabric.

"Lady Kuchiki, are you alright?" one of the women asked.

Glancing up to see the woman was genuine in her concern, Hisana nodded her head. "It is nothing." She swallowed those words along with the residual blood in her mouth with great disgust.

One, however, would have never realized her horror by looking at her. She appeared tense, but not inordinately so given the occasion.

"Yes, Hisana, how is your  _health_. I heard that you fired Dr. Kaito as your physician."

A smug smile pulled at Hisana's lips.  _'If only you knew why… Perhaps, you do.'_  "I didn't realize I needed to have my doctor approved by anyone other than myself."

"It seems you don't look for anyone's approval for your actions," Fusae said matter-of-factly.

Hisana pursed her lips at the turn the meeting with his family had taken. Usually, they were more subtle with their barbs and hostility. Perhaps acting in the face of their feud with the Shibas proved to be the threshold for their "kindness".

"Fair enough," she said, and tilted her head to the side as she considered the truth in Fusae's statement. She did not consider the family's wishes when she acted. The thought never occurred to her. On reflection, she realized just how selfish her actions must have appeared to the family. And she guessed that, on some level, they had the  _right_  to be angry with her. She took what they had to offer, cherry-picked the pieces she found tolerable, and cast the rest aside without a second thought.

She never thought about justifying her trips to Rukongai to anyone besides Byakuya. She just figured that his family wanted nothing to do with her, and, if they didn't want her, she didn't need them either. She would have never guessed that her actions only reinforced their biases. But as she sat there on that summer day, it all started to click together in her head. Maybe it was her mood, a combination of repose and turmoil, or maybe it was the imminence of her death weighing heavily in the back of her mind that allowed her to see the bigger picture.

' _If only I could do everything over if only for his sake.'_  She found herself revisiting that thought with alarming frequency.

"You're right, Lady Fusae. I have been rather careless." She wasn't quite sure if she meant it or if she only said it because it sounded good in her head. Either way, the sentiments had been given, and, judging by the elder woman's features, Hisana was almost positive that Fusae would need more convincing.

' _What are you saying, Hisana? These people would sooner be dancing on your grave than congratulating you on your contribution to the Kuchiki name.'_

"Indeed, you have."

"Fusae!" the woman seated to Fusae's right gasped.

Apparently, the mask of civility had been lifted much to the chagrin to everyone else in the party. Fusae turned her head to the side, and averted her gaze to the rose bush on her left. Her expression was black.

Hisana, on the other hand, remained very still - wistful even. She crossed her arms in front of her, making sure to tuck the hand clutching the handkerchief under the opposing arm.

An uneasiness blanketed the six women. The tension in the air was so oppressive that it squelched every voice in the party. They remained in a state of mutual silence for what felt like eons. No one even dared to shift in her seat.

It was Touko who, upon feeling a stirring in her belly, resituated herself beside Hisana. "Lady Kuchiki," she began softly, reaching for Hisana's hand, "would you like to?" She looked down at her swollen abdomen insinuatingly.

Hisana gave her hand before fully comprehending the woman's meaning. Had she considered what was happening beforehand she would have declined the offer. Her hand, however, was softly resting on the woman's belly before she had the chance to renege.

"Do you feel it?" Touko asked; her eyes locked on Hisana's and an expression of maternal glee wrote its way across Touko's face.

Hisana forced a smile, feeling a weak flutter against her hand. "Yes." It was such a strange, almost foreign thing to have her hand there – to be so close to the maternal nature of the afterlife. Because most of the souls in Rukongai did not possess enough reiatsu to grow, pregnancy and child-bearing were rare events. It just seemed so fey and so unsettling at the same time.

Hisana quickly withdrew her hand, and tucked it in her lap. "You must be very happy."

Touko smiled and nodded her head.

Hisana could feel the burn of six sets of eyes on her as apparently the same thought crossed everyone's mind at the exact same moment. It was a bitter point for them, Hisana was sure. It just solidified the fact that she was a disappointment as the Lady of the House in every sense of the word.

' _When will this ever end?'_  she wondered, finally at wits end with her present company. She was sinking into a feeling of self-loathing as she remained there. The question hung over them unasked and unanswered: ' _Why haven't you gotten to the business of at least bearing an heir? You've lived in the streets for 100 years so you must be hardy enough to manage such a simple task.'_

Given Fusae's propensity to be bitingly candid as of late, Hisana wondered why the old woman had kept quiet for so long. Surely, she was just burning to ask it. Hisana was just waiting for it to be blurted out at any time. It probably would have, too. She could see Fusae rocking uncomfortably in her seat as if she had something coarse to get off her chest lest it kill her. The question, however, was quashed forever the instant a familiar presence wafted over the women.

Hisana was the first to catch her husband's signature, and she turned in her seat to see him standing a few feet from her. She was quick to offer him a smile, and bowed her head out of both respect and acknowledgment.

He looked tired and drained as he neared the females. Any drop of good humor he had still residing within him was not going to be wasted with false pleasantries and small talk. He merely bowed his head in response to the females' addressing him with both his title and rank.

"Lord Byakuya," Hisana said softly, offering her hand to him.

He took her hand in his own and helped her to her feet.

"Good day, Lord Kuchiki," Fusae greeted in a strident voice.

He stood stiffly in front of the woman. His expression impassive, even his eyes looked dead and lifeless as he observed her.

"We were just talking about Touko's little gift," she elaborated, jerking her chin in the direction of the expecting mother.

Touko's face reddened from sheer embarrassment.

"Congratulations," Byakuya stated, deadpan. He was not benighted when it came to his family's little antics, especially when it concerned his wife.

"Thank you, Lord Kuchiki."

"We were just asking Lady Kuchiki when you would honor our family with an heir," Fusae continued.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes, and stiffened at the insinuation.

"I told them it would be only a matter of time," Hisana said, catching her husband's gaze.

"Yes, she told us that you were having trouble conceiving, and we are truly sorry for your recent setbacks."

"There is no need for your false sympathies," Byakuya responded blankly. "Good day," and with that he gave a perfunctory nod of his head and turned on his heel.

Following his lead, Hisana observed her husband as they traced their way back to the palanquin. His public self was always so severe, so beyond reach and reproach, she noted to herself.  _'He's so serious...'_

Nearing the palanquin, Hisana slowed her pace. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured softly.

He obliged and brought his cadence down to her clip.

"I wouldn't mind walking."

He shook his head. "I have to return to the Sixth. It would be best." He appeared drawn and worn as he gazed down on her. His face was an unnatural pallor for his complexion, and dark circles hung under his eyes.

She offered him a conciliatory smile and nodded her head. "Of course," she said, trying her best to stave off another coughing spell for as long as he was near.

Scanning the area with a brief glance, he leaned down to help her into the palanquin, and gently kissed her on the forehead when she was safely inside. Her skin was flushed with heat, he noted to himself. A look of worriment stained his face. "You should," he began but was quickly interrupted by her coughing.

Hisana covered her mouth with her handkerchief, and buried her face in her hands as she succumbed to the intense bout of hacking. When it was over, she was quick to crumple the cloth in her hand. She did not want him to see the blood, but her efforts at secrecy proved useless.

"Are you feeling…" he began, but, on glimpsing a flicker of red on the white handkerchief, he caught her wrist in his hand.

"It's blood," she confessed before he had the chance to expose her. Anticipating the expression of concern, she continued, "I have some medicine at the manor. There is nothing more that can be done though."

"I can …"

She shook her head, cutting him off mid-sentence. "And do what? Watch me? You have things that need your attention. Go."

He averted his gaze to the stones beneath his feet. His grip on her wrist tightened as he contemplated the matter.

"Please, go. I'll be fine."

His hold fell to her hand. "Rest," he said firmly. His hand still holding hers as the servants lifted the covered seat.

She nodded her head. A somber smile thinned her lips as she leaned down to maintain their connection. "Be careful," she said, squeezing his hand.

He smiled a small half-smile. His eyes trained on hers, not wanting to break from her for as long as it was possible. When it was no longer possible to stay, he lowered his head and kissed the top of her hand before departing in a blur.

All that remained of his presence after he left was the smell of scorched earth and the lingering warmth from his kiss. Hisana pulled herself into the palanquin, holding the hand he kissed clasped tightly against her chest. The feeling was forever seared into her brain; a memory of the flesh.

* * *

 

When she returned she found the manor in chaos. It was a subdued kind of madness. She could tell as she traversed the corridors that the servants wanted to be very hush-hush about what had them in such a tizzy. She pretended not to notice as she moved toward her quarters.

Pulling back the door to her room, she jolted up to find Murasaki still cleaning the area. The handmaiden stood leaning over Hisana's black lacquered desk. She appeared pensive with her forehead creased and her brows lowered. In her hand was a yellow piece of paper from which she was reading. So immersed in whatever she was examining, the maid had not heard the skittering of the door being pulled back nor did she hear the soft footfalls of her mistress as Hisana entered the room.

"Murasaki?" she asked, shutting the door behind her as she entered. "May I ask what is going on out there?"

Startled by the sudden intonations of her mistress, Murasaki jumped back, clenching her chest with her right hand. A few sharp breaths raggedly caused her chest to raise and fall with much force. "Oh, my! I didn't even see you, Lady Kuchiki. Please, accept my sincerest apologies," she said, bowing low as she spoke.

Hisana did not appear in the least bit taken aback by her handmaiden's obliviousness. "What is going on?"

"It is nothing for you to worry, Milady."

Hisana furrowed her brows at the response. Her skepticism was read loud and clear. "What is it?"

Murasaki shook her head. "Nothing."

Hisana shot her an incredulous stare.

Reluctantly, Murasaki handed her mistress the paper she was holding. "One of the younger servants found this morning when cleaning," she sighed.

Receiving the page, Hisana's brows knit together. She hastily skimmed the letter. The font and yellow paper were familiar enough – it was a hospital form. When she reached the second line of the missive, a cool realization washed over her.  _'How did this happen?'_

"Is it true, Lady Kuchiki?"

Hisana dropped the hand that held the missive to her side. The lines in her face tightened into a grimace. Her eyes trailed to the floor. "Yes."

Murasaki cupped her hand over her mouth. "No!" Her cry was partially squelched by her palm, but her look of disbelief could not be mistaken.

Hisana nodded her head. "I wish it were not."

Murasaki lowered her hand from her mouth. "Does the Lord know?"

Hisana shook her head. "What good would have come of him knowing? It has already happened. I addressed the issue."

"You'll have to tell him now."

Hisana absently nodded her head. Indeed, she would have to now. How she would go about it was another matter…

"What happened to Dr. Kaito?" Murasaki asked, breaking Hisana's cogitation.

"He was appropriately handled according to the guidelines set out by the Disciplinary Committee." In truth, her reply was code for, "I have no idea," but she did know he had been brought up on charges of malice. What his fate was? She didn't really care to know. It was over. The damage to her health had been done – irrevocable as it was.

"Do you think…" Murasaki began but was quickly cut off by a wave of her mistress's hand.

It was the next logical step. To wonder if others were complicit in the deed was natural. Hisana had asked herself the same question, but she had drawn the conclusion that implicating others was not going to do anything but make their lives worse. It was not going to undo the past. It certainly was not going to help her cope and move past it. It would also burden her husband more than he was already. She was going to die; she was going to leave him behind soon enough. Why alienate him further from his own family? It was the last thing she wanted.

"It does not matter," she answered firmly.

' _Could this day get any worse?'_  Almost on cue, she descended into a fit of coughing. She immediately covered her mouth with both hands, and bent at the waist due to the force of the spell.

"Milady!" Murasaki cried. The handmaiden grabbed her mistress's shoulders. Even through the layers of silk, Murasaki could feel the fever that clung to Hisana.

Instinctively, she pressed the back of her hand against Hisana's forehead. "You are burning up, Milady!" she cried.

Without another thought, Murasaki guided Hisana into the washroom where she ran cold water. Grabbing a cloth from the linen closet, she quickly wetted it in the basin and placed it against Hisana's head.

The coughing slowly began to subside.

"How are you feeling, Milady?" Murasaki asked, leaning down to look the woman deep in the eye.

Hisana simply shook her head. "I think I cracked a rib," she hissed, wincing in pain as she tried to stand.

"Milady! Your hands!" Murasaki grabbed Hisana's wrists and turned her hands palm-side up. Her skin was slick with blood. Murasaki's eyes widened in panic. "What do we do?"

Hisana gently slid her wrists free from the handmaiden's grasp, and stiffly moved to the basin of water. Dipping her hands into the cool liquid, she turned her head slightly to the side and glanced at Murasaki. "Go fetch Kishu. He should know where my medicines are."

"Should I fetch a doctor as well, Lady Kuchiki?"

Hisana somberly shook her head. "The doctor said it was only a matter of time."

Murasaki's expression fell. "Yes, Milady. I will get Kishu."

* * *

 

Dusk still lingered on the horizon when Byakuya returned home. The sky above shone with such violent colors it looked as if the dying sun had set the firmament on fire. As the light waned, the shadows came out of hiding – lengthening across the wooden planks of the walkway and playing against the Manor's outside walls.

It would not be long before the darkness penetrated each corridor of the house, he noted to himself as he moved to a side door.

Hesitant, Byakuya stopped short of the door. Clenching the bag of medicine for his wife in his right hand, he inhaled a deep breath. His eyes closed, and a pained expression marred his face. With baited breath, he felt for his wife's presence. It had become his evening ritual. Each night he would enter through the same door, and before he crossed into the manor he would pause and search for her. Every time his concentration deepened as his reach for her extended. It was his way of tracking her illness; he wanted to know just how quickly it was felling her. He wanted to know how much time there was left…

Finding his answer, he clenched his jaw. It was just as he expected.

She had been stronger the day before.

He slid back the door and crossed over the threshold. Noiselessly, he ghosted through the corridors. His footing was even; his steps were feather-light; his reiatsu was repressed.

Continuing through the halls, he made it to his quarters undetected. On entry, he gave the area a cursory look. The room was lit in a dim gold. Thick black shadows dominated most of the floor - their inky fingers slowly inching up the walls. It would not be long before the entire space was consumed by the encroaching darkness.

Tiredly, he set the parcel he had been carrying down on a nearby desk, shed his shinigami robes, kenseikan, and scarf. Discarding the last of his raiment, he reached for some fresh clothes, and dressed in front of the window that faced his private garden.

There she was. She was where he expected to find her. She sat perched on a large rock that was only a stone's throw away from of the river. He watched her intently as he shrugged on a green haori over his navy blue kimono. Even though her back was facing him, he knew where her eye-line was. Her gaze was fixed skyward, past the stone wall flanking the garden.

She was staring into the heavens - like a trapped bird whose only desire was to fly.

The estate was her cage. The illness was her broken wing. And he was her tether.

The realization plucked a painful chord inside him, he had to admit.

Absently, his gaze trailed to the desk to his right. Glimpsing the white paper bag he had set down moments before, Byakuya plucked the bag from his desk and moved into the garden.

Feeling her husband's presence nearby, Hisana turned her head to the side. Her eyes were quick to meet his, and she held his gaze with a captivating grace. Her voice took on a sobering quality as she greeted him. "Lord Byakuya."

He lifted the bag in defense of his intrusion. Normally, he left her to her solitude when he saw her in the garden. But right then he could not ignore the pangs of insecurity that clawed at his brain.

"Your medicine," he said softly.

The corners of her lips pulled into a smile, but her eyes belied the turmoil simmering below the façade of cheerfulness. "Medicine? I didn't realize I was out."

"Kishu said that you had cracked one of your ribs."

At its mention, Hisana felt against her ribcage. Indeed, pain still lingered there, but it was slowly diminishing. "I was exaggerating," she said kindly, "but thank you for your concern."

Lowering the bag, he murmured a soft: "It was just some calcium pills," and averted his gaze to the stream.

"Would you like to sit with me?" she asked, staring deeply into his forlorn face

He lifted his head at her offer, and shot her a sidelong glare.

He appeared conflicted, she noted.  _'He's holding back. He wants to accept, but doesn't know how…'_ She  _knew_  he wanted to join her. She could  _feel_  it in his stare. But with each passing moment he remained silent, she began to doubt he would agree.

"Just for a moment," she added; this time she beseeched him by extending him her hand.

Hesitantly, he reached for her. Feeling the warmth of her fingertips brushing his, he bucked at his initial apprehension and his hand closed around hers. It did not take long for him to position himself comfortably by her side.

Hisana closed the remaining space between them when she braced her head against his chest. Silence encapsulated the pair as they watched the sun submit to the darkness of night.

After the celestial changing of the guard had reached its finale, Byakuya glanced down to find his wife nestled comfortably against him. Her eyes were closed and all the tension melted from her face.

Gently, he leaned down and pressed his lips against the top of her head.

Feeling the warmth of his kiss subside, Hisana tilted her head back to get an eyeful of her husband. Shadows gathered on his face, veiling much of it in shade. She viewed him in dark abstract. The only feature she could discern was his left eye, for it reflected the silver light of the moon.

"I fired Dr. Kaito." The confession sank in the humid summer air, and, for a moment, Hisana wondered if he had heard her for he remained unmoved.

Worried that his silence indicated something more, her eyes widened with alarm. "Are you angry?" she probed evenly.

He simply shook his head.

Hisana parted her lips in preparation to explain herself – to tell him of the doctor's treachery. The thoughts, however, remained scattered in her head. No matter how hard she tried, the words never materialized. Her voice was squelched by a feeling that those sentiments were better left unsaid.

"You're holding back," he observed in a low tenor.

Hisana lowered her gaze to the ground and shook her head. "It was nothing." And nothing it would remain.

Pushing the thought aside, she sat up and twisted around to face him. Guilt sloshed in her stomach as she scrutinized his features through the heavy shade. She wanted to do something for him – to recompense him for his generosity. But there was nothing she could give. Even her body was of little use to anyone, including herself. Her only currency gone.

Tenderly, she brushed a few stray wisps of hair from his face. Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and pressed her forehead against his. "Captain of the Sixth Division and the twenty-eighth head of the noble Kuchiki family." Her breath tantalizingly warmed his skin as she exhaled each syllable.

There was something provocative about her addressing him in such a way. And he wondered if it was intentional. The idle musing, however, quickly dissolved the moment he felt her hands against the back of his neck. It did not take long for her thin fingers to knot in his hair.

"Lady Kuchiki," he replied stiffly, "what is it you are doing?"

She opened her eyes, and cracked a small smile. "I think  _that_  is rather obvious," she answered, giving him a sly look as she did.

He smoothly caught her hands, and brought them down to her sides. Pulling away from her tender headlock, he shook his head. "Not tonight."

She lowered her chin against her right shoulder, and wearily glanced up at him. "Please, let me…"

He did not relent. "You need your rest."

Hisana closed her eyes the moment she felt the coolness of space come between them as he withdrew from her. In her mind's eye she could almost see him standing beside her. She wanted to say something – anything - but she was too weighed down by exhaustion to argue with him.

Through half-lidded eyes, she fumbled to stand. Once on solid footing, she struggled to maintain his gaze, but she could not. Reality began to crumble around her. Unable to hold on any longer, her eyes rolled up into her head, and her body stiffened.

All it took was an extension of his arm, and Byakuya caught her with relative ease. She was lighter now than before, he noted to himself as he cradled her against his chest.

It was going to be an uneasy night.


	32. Only in Dreams

Byakuya Kuchiki stood amid a field of tall wild grass. The field was expansive – never-ending in its breadth. Its reach extended far past the horizon in every direction he turned. And situated in the middle of the grassland was a solitary cherry tree. Haunting in its singularity, it stood with its knotty branches stretched skyward. It was a young tree for it was neither very tall nor very full. The blossoms adorning its inky limbs were scattered in clumps – giving the tree a sad malnourished appearance.

Byakuya moved through the waist deep grass. The stalks yielded to his forward stride, bowing low as he passed. His body responded with automatic precision; he had walked this bleached world before. He had treaded through that white grass; he had seen those palest of pink cherry blossoms; and he knew the dark skeleton of the tree well. Even the wispy clouds scattered against the grey-blue sky were as he recalled them.

Only in dreams did he see that world. Tranquil as it was unchanging, he came there only to seek refuge from his troubled thoughts. It had always been there - residing within him since his nascency. As a child he visited the area to mourn the loss of his parents. As a teenager he came to seek repose after training. His mentor's death and his grandfather's death also brought him back to that somber plane.

Keeping his eyes fixed on the young sakura tree, he continued toward it. And for a moment his heart skittered and skipped as he searched the tree's bole. He knew she would be there. He did not know in what form or the specifics of her incarnation, but he knew she would come. It was the beauty of that world. It never truly changed. She would be there by the tree's trunk just like his grandfather had been years before her, and just like his parents had been there years before him.

He knew the number of steps it would take before he saw her – thirty-one. And when he took that thirty-first step there she was. It was so expected, but her presence still stopped him dead. Transfixed, he took in the sight of her, burning the image into his brain for posterity.

She was cloaked in scarlet. Her hair was as glossy as it was when he first met her, and her skin radiated a glow of health. She had been perfectly restored. Illness and despair no longer clothed her.

When she turned to face him, she lifted her head and smiled. "Byakuya," she called, leaving off the honorifics. Extending her arm, she reached out imploringly for his touch.

He moved closer and without a second thought he took her hand in his. Her hand was as he remembered – small and smooth. With a gentle tug, he pulled her closer and cupped the side of her face. Her cheek soft and cool; fever no longer resided there.

Gazing deeply into her clear blue eyes, he tilted her head upward. She smiled chastely at him. The smile, however, was deceiving for it was she who closed the space that existed between their lips.

The kiss was gentle, restrained, in its execution. The want was there; the hunger and longing between them was palpable. Yet, neither one dared to break the stillness. Neither one dared to break away, either.

Byakuya slid his hands down from the coolness of her cheek; his fingers shakily traced the soft silk of her collar and traveled down her shoulders. The sensation of wrinkled silk and the firmness of her arms clothed underneath elicited a tightening in his stomach. There was something intensely erotic yet soothing by her nearness. The gentle pulse of her reiatsu against his - the feeling of his fingers sinking into the tops of her arms – was provocative in its sensuality and familiarity. It provoked an insatiable hunger – a desire to absorb and devour - and, for a brief moment, he wondered if want of love was similar in intensity and ilk to the voracious appetite of a hollow. Both were consuming and overwhelming; it was addictive, making slaves of the possessor.

It was once suggested that when one reached the heart of evil there was nothing there. Byakuya wondered if the same was true of love…

Bristling under the strength of his fingers wrapped tightly around her arms, Hisana pulled away. She lifted her hands in front of her. Her fingertips gently pressed against his lips. She was still close enough for him to feel the heaviness of her breath. He could still smell her fragrance of white plum. He could still see the sadness in her eyes, tranquil as they may shine.

"Byakuya," she said in a whisper. Her lips were pressed against the tops of her fingers – the very same fingers that pressed lightly on his mouth. "You look like you have something to say," the question was not as much perceptive as it was acknowledging the obvious.

He closed his eyes and inhaled a deep perfumed breath. Every fiber in his body tingled and tightened with anxiety. There were so many things he could say – so many questions he could ask. Questions and statements that plagued him during his waking hours, however, fell from his conscious mind when presented the opportunity to air them. As much as he searched for the  _right_  thing to say or do, he was empty.

He was utterly drained.

Opening his eyes, he bent his head lower, closer to hers. His gaze was searching; her gaze was probing, beseeching him to express himself – to let go of his sorrow and anguish. Byakuya, however, had spent years perfecting his modes of containment. His grey eyes were guarded – looking through her more than at her. He wore the façade of indifference with the professionalism that some actors wore their noh masks. But, the pressure of his fingertips digging into the soft flesh of her arms, and the barely perceptible tremor of his hands exposed his emotional state.

A bittersweet smile curved the corners of her mouth as she stared into those steady grey eyes. "You still have time," she said in a lilting voice.

He closed his eyes and exhaled a deep breath. The pressure of her arm against his fingers and the warmth of her nearness dispersed. His eyes snapped open just in time to see Hisana scatter in a thousand pink petals.

Byakuya's eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest at the sight of the blossoms wafting to the ground in a heap of pink.

"Senbonzakura," he hissed.

A sudden and intolerable surge of heat penetrated him. He could feel his body slick with sweat, and his vision darkened. Blackness blanketed both his sight and mind. There, in the limbo that existed between sleep and reality, he floundered between solace and unbridled aggravation. Pain, emotional and physical, clawed at his brain, yet his body was too leaden to do anything to assuage the itching as his subconscious mind began to bleed and melt into his conscious mind.

Finding the effort, he peeled back his eyelids. His eyes were crusty from deep slumber, and his mouth and throat parched. Fumbling with the sheets, he gracelessly flung his arm out to the side. Patting the futon down, he felt for the warmth of his wife. His fingers twisted in the comforter. There was nothing but wicked coldness.

"Hisana," he murmured; his voice was creaky from hours of disuse. The humid chill of the room also did not help his already sore throat. "Hisana," he repeated, still fighting through the heaviness of sleep.

Hearing no response, he wiggled free from the sheets tangled and sticking to his heated and slick body. Lethargic, he sat up. Eyes were still unfocused, and head pounding in synchrony with his pulse. The only sound he heard was that of his own blood rushing in his ears.

Light reached him in blurry shades of orange and burnt yellow. He could tell by the flicker of effulgence against the tenebrous pallet of nightfall, that the light source was a candle. For even in his brain fog, he caught the glow making patterns on the wall.

Hoping to clear his vision, he squeezed his eyes shut and reopened them to find the world a clearer place. Jerkily, he glanced over the capacious room to find his wife passed out on the writing desk in the corner. The side of her cheek was pressed against the top, while her arms dangled off the sides in what looked to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable. Papers littered the desk; one even had the consummate gall to be plastered to her forehead as she sat hunched over.

A rush of adrenaline flowed through him as he considered the possibility of her expiring on the desk. Any remnant of listlessness fell from his body the moment he spryly leapt to his feet. In the bat of an eyelash, he reached her.

"Hisana," he whispered against her ear. Gently, he stoked the back of her head as he pulled her up by the shoulder. Much to his relief, she was still breathing, and after a little prodding she appeared to be cognizant.

Blinking back the sleep from her eyes, her gaze flitted up to meet his face before heavy eyelids insisted otherwise. Tryingly, she looked up at him once again; this time her eyes remained open long enough for her to comprehend who was standing over her. "Lord Byakuya," she murmured in a throaty voice, "I was having such a nice dream. There were cherry blossoms. So many blossoms, and we were so happy. I hope I see the blossoms of spring one last time," she rattled on dreamily. Most of the words were slurred, but he managed to gather her meaning.

Helping her into a seated posture, Byakuya scrutinized her tired and drawn features. Well, he scrutinized the part of her face that was not obscured by the unruly missive glued to her forehead. With a sharp yank, he broke the sweaty seal the paper had created, and he scanned it. The lettering was familiar as was the line his eyes happened upon. A queasy sense of déjà vu overcame him.

"You're blushing, Lord Kuchiki," Hisana observed with a coy smile plastered on her face.

Wide eyes and a distinctive look of diffidence destroyed his normally inscrutable veneer. "You kept them?" He tried a convincing deadpan, but he failed… miserably.

Her smile only widened. "What did you expect?" she chortled.

"You to burn them after reading them like any respectable wife would!" He teased. (Well, he was  _mostly_  kidding.)

She cocked her head to the side, and feigning ignorance she asked, "Why would I do that?"

"You still read them?"

"Every single one of them. I even have the first one you sent me while I was recuperating at the hospital before we were married, and I must say you have improved since then."

He looked absolutely horrified to hear that. He wasn't sure which part of her confession perturbed him more: The fact that she kept  _every_  one of his love letters or that he was truly as terrible at writing them as he first thought.

What started out as an amused half-grin on her part had turned into a toothy smile.

He felt completely transparent as he stood before her, and judging by her look he doubted he was too far off. But, he was blessed that his wife was an empathetic soul.

"I didn't save them because they're incriminating. I'm not  _that_  conniving," she chuckled. "I saved the letters because I love to read them. They make me happy."

A bolt of electricity stayed him – transfixed him. His shock then, however, was not from embarrassment, but for some unnamable, unspeakable, reason. He stood ramrod straight, and he averted his gaze to the floor. His eyes trailed back and forth as he concentrated on his breathing.

Lifting her arm, she tenderly pressed her hand against his. "You didn't keep my letters?"

He inclined his head, and shot her a sly sidelong glance. A devious glint of moonlight hit his eyes at just the right moment.

A look of happiness creased her face, and her eyes squinted up when she laughed. It was so rare that he got to see her genuinely laugh that instead of sharing in the joy, he merely observed her – trying his best to commit every line and contour to memory.

"So, I'm not the only sentimental one," her voice still trembled from her bout of laughter.

A pleasured look crossed his face as he watched her. She reciprocated his unspoken sentiment of tenderness. A stillness captured the two as they observed one another with great fondness. The appreciation they felt for each other extended far beyond their role of lovers; they were also close  _friends_.

"So, what of this I 'improved'?" he murmured sheepishly.

She couldn't help the outburst of laughter that immediately followed the question. When she glanced back up she was surprised to find that he did not look in the least offended. He appeared almost satisfied, as if he had tricked her into it. She shook her head and grinned. Her head was tilted to the right, and her index finger playfully stroked her bottom lip as she contemplated her answer. "Let's just say there was more of you and less of Kakinomoto no Hitomaro as time passed."

Somewhat surprised that she had discovered his shameless pilfering of the great poet, he simply lifted his head and turned his gaze to the window. "So, you're saying I am better than Hitomaro?"

She gaped at his arrogance. "Hardly!" She glanced up just in time to see Byakuya's expression of noble pride deflate. His eyes widened as they met hers, and his lips thinned. "I married Lord Byakuya Kuchiki not Kakinomoto no Hitomaro. If I had wanted to read Hitomaro's thoughts on love I would have read one of the tomes in the library. Instead, I wanted to read my husband's thoughts."

He glimpsed her from the corner of his eye. "You look tired," he murmured, hiding his concern under a thin veneer of austerity.

"I am tired.  _You_  woke  _me_."

A boyish grin lengthened his lips at that. Helping her to her feet, "You said you wanted to see the blossoms again," he noted offhandedly.

She lowered her head the moment she felt the sting of heat on her cheeks. She had not intended for him to hear that. But, she was sloppy when drunk on dreams. "It would be nice to pass after seeing the plum blossoms one last time."

Reflexively, both of them turned their attention to the window as if to check for any signs of spring in the dead of winter. Alas! The garden was wearing its winter attire of snow and ice. Spring was a long time coming – time Hisana did not have.

With a pained smile, she glanced up at her husband.

Byakuya could feel her eyes on him. He could feel the small pulse of worriment radiate from her ever waning reiatsu. It went unspoken, but both knew it was unlikely that she would live long enough for her wish to be granted.

"You can see the blossoms now if you wished it," he said in a soft voice.

She furrowed her brows, and her eyes squinted betokening her puzzlement. "An eternally blossoming tree?"

He closed his eyes and gave a slow shake of his head. He, then, tilted his head in the direction of the case housing Senbonzakura. His gaze drifted back to Hisana. She appeared taken aback by his offer.

Her brows lowered and knitted together, and her lips parted. He could tell she wanted to say something, but she could not find the words to properly describe her feelings. So, he remained with steady probing eyes and an expression of unflinching earnestness.

She knew he never offered anything he did not mean to give. She felt honored that he would do such a thing since he never released his zanpakutō unless it was required of him. "Thank you," she said, choking on the last syllable.

He squeezed her hand. "Do you think you can make it to the training ground?"

She nodded. "Let me put on a few more layers of clothing."

Quietly, he awaited her return.

It did not take her long to reach her quarters, dress, and come back. Sliding the door to his room open, she paused short of the threshold. She stood donning five layers of undergarments beneath a ratty kimono and an even more tattered haori. It was a small wonder that she could stand given all of the material she was wearing.

With Senbonzakura firmly in hand, Byakuya moved to her side. All it took was a small tug of her arm, and she was securely cradled in his arms. The command to hold tightly was implied, and Hisana did not hesitate to throw her arms around his neck and hold on for dear life. He was considered the fastest at flash-step for a reason…

The familiar feeling of her stomach dropping indicated that they had gone from zero to blazingly high speeds in one second flat. The scenery careened passed them at such an alarming speed that Hisana instinctively tightened her grip on him. It was only the comforting beat of his spiritual pressure against hers that kept her from strangling him in fear.

On reaching their destination, Byakuya slowly decelerated, and once on even footing he eased her to the ground. Gasping, she staggered forward; her balance largely steadied by her husband. Finding her equilibrium, she glanced up to find that they were not standing amid the Sixth Division's training field. No, they were deep inside a brightly lit cave. Phosphorescent plants (namely vines) provided more than adequate light.

Perplexed by where they were, Hisana turned to her husband. He could tell she was confused by the look on her face. "I thought it would be warmer here," he explained evenly.

She gave a hoarse cough before nodding her head in agreement. She had not noticed it before, but, as the heat from flash-stepping began to fade from her body, she did feel rather comfortable in the cave.

Taking her hand in his, Byakuya led her to a small dark space that existed beneath a large cliff. Stopping short, he turned and watched her intently. She was scanning the entirety of the area. He could tell she found the place odd, and she looked as if she could not quite pin down why.

"It was artificially forged," he said, gazing up into the cave's ceiling.

She turned to him. Her eyes stared deeply into his visage. She always found such perverse delight in watching him unaware.

It did not take long for his attention to drift back to her. Holding her wide-eyed gaze with an intense stare, he lowered his head and asked, "Do you trust me?"

A small smile parted her lips, and, closing her eyes, she nodded her response.

"Stay perfectly still."

And she did.

She heard him murmur a word under his breath. It reached her as a mere susurrus, and she did not flinch. She remained the picture of calm repose. Her posture was straight, her chin was lifted slightly, and her eyes were shut.

A strange brush against the sleeve of her kimono tempted her to open her eyes. And open her eyes she did.

What she saw was stunning.

In the shade cast from the above ledge, she caught flickers of pinks and white – flashes of petals. They swarmed around her, rustling against her kimono, playfully caressing the exposed skin of her hands and face. So taken in by their beauty, she quickly forgot  _what_  they were, and took a shaky step forward.

Byakuya placed a hand on her shoulder. "That is not perfectly still."

Remembering her promise, she inhaled a biting breath and halted mid-lurch. "I don't listen that well, but you know _that_ ," she retorted teasingly. "It is beautiful. I cannot thank you enough for everything you have done for me."

A sullen look darkened his face as he watched Senbonzakura's blades dance around them. The realization of  _why_  they were there finally had sunk in.

He imagined he would be frequenting his dreamscape often in the days to come…


	33. Epilogue

The sound would have gone unnoticed by most, but to his ears it resonated with the same hair-raising intensity that only nails against a chalkboard could elicit. His head bobbed up and his gaze immediately shot over to the closet set into the wall opposite him.

Lifting his head, he could discern that the door was ajar. A sliver of shade where it was not supposed to be grabbed his attention. His next reaction was to search the area for the presence of another.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled a soft, "Rukia."

On cue the door slid back, revealing his  _sister_. Her head hung low, her eyes glued to the tatami mat, and clenched against her chest was the handful of letters she had managed to rescue before making her escape into the closet.

"Honorable brother," she answered, trying her best to look appropriately reverent and shamed, "I -" she began but was quickly interrupted.

"You may go," he murmured, waving his hand in the direction of the door. Anger or reckless emotion was not going to solve anything. No rules had been broken, and the damage had been done. Being cross with her was not going to amend the past.

Rukia jerkily raised her head. Her expression was a mixture of hesitance and relief. Nervously, she looked up from the tatami to find her brother sitting with his head bent and his eyes lowered.

Gone was the desolate and somber man that possessed his shell moments before. The ever inscrutable, aloof Kuchiki head had returned. True to his nature, he sat stubbornly refusing to give Rukia the slightest acknowledgment.

He knew she was staring at him; he could feel his skin heat under her gaze. He knew she was watching him with that wide-eyed imploring look – the same look his wife had wielded so convincingly years before.

He would have obliged the latter, but for the former he could not muster the energy to spare her a fleeting glance. He just could not see that face.

He heard the unmistakable rustle of a woman fumbling to pull herself up. Then, there was the tension that followed – words that could not be spoken on Rukia's part lingered deep inside her chest.

"Y-y-yes," was the only coherent noise she could force from her throat. Gracelessly, she straightened her posture. She had one good step under her before she suddenly realized that clutched against her chest were the missives. Panic washed over her, and she nervously scanned the room, hoping she would find a solution to her predicament.

' _What to do with these? How embarrassing!'_  Shaking, she teetered back and forth between placing them on the desk or just taking them.

Her inner struggle was quickly becoming apparent to the room's other occupant.

"Put the letters on the floor," he said in a flat tenor.

Before he had the words out good, Rukia was already setting the epistles down. "Forgive me," she said, hastily offering him a bow. Feeling the tension in the room increase exponentially with each passing moment, Rukia turned on her heel and quickly scuttled out of the room.

Byakuya paid her no heed as she stumbled through her exit. Instead, he kept his gaze to the bookshelves, and waited for the "clack" of wood hitting wood. When the door finally shut in her wake, he dipped his head and placed the palm of his hand against his face. Tiredly, he rubbed his eyes, making sure to squeeze the bridge of his nose before placing his hand back down on the desk.

He sighed – deeply – and turned his attention to the parchment piled in the middle of the floor. A lugubrious smile curved a corner of his mouth as he eyed the letters. He knew what they were, and before he lost his resolve he stood and crossed the room. Deftly, he plucked the missives from the floor and carried them back to his desk.

"Hisana," he murmured under his breath.

Once seated, he set all but one of the letters down, and unfolded the one he spared. His somber grin widened when he saw the familiar strokes of his own calligraphy sprawling across the parchment. He indulged himself and read the note in its entirety.

"She was right. I was  _terrible_ ," he mused mordantly to himself.

Fond, sweet memories filled his head as glanced away from the paper. He was not sure if it was unconscious curiosity or plain happenstance that his gaze, then, fell to the book situated on his desk. It was the very same book he had retrieved from the center of the floor when he first entered the room.

"She must have kept the letters in the pages," he thought to himself. Impulsively, he reached for the tome. His fingers coiled around the coarse and cracked leather binding; single-handedly, he drew the book closer, and dusting off the cover he inspected the title. Gold, flaking letters spelled out:  _Kakinomoto no Hitomaro: A Collection of Poetry and Interpretations_.

He smiled. "Hisana…"

Quietly, he thumbed through the pages, stopping at the poem, "When She was Still Alive" _._

**Author's Note:**

> Published at FFN from December 16, 2007 to May 30, 2009.


End file.
